online gold mining | Teen Ink

online gold mining

May 9, 2019
By tjoythornhill BRONZE, Dayton, Ohio
tjoythornhill BRONZE, Dayton, Ohio
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Out of everyone I thought I loved, I felt a way for you I never had. Though I’d seen things like this play out a million and one times, this had to be different.
You made me glitter like gold, so I believed the lies you told.

Our narrative was surprisingly simple for two characters like ourselves combining forces. I should’ve seen the problem right away.

I was me, rather simple with just a few hidden complexities, I’d thought. But not where you came from; you claimed girls like me were such a rarity, like you’d struck gold though you hadn’t even wandered into the mines. I was craving emotional fulfillment, looking for someone to attach the idea of myself to, to morph my image of what I was, and to make me into someone I didn’t know.

That’s where you came in, with your sweet and sour persuasion right from the beginning. The first thing I ever heard about you was how you thought I was an angel. You were mysterious, so of course I wanted to know more; I was looking for any dream to invest in, and you seemed like a promising one. But at the core, both of us were so similar, living out our separate lives, quietly bothered by the possibilities of us together, but not enough to disrupt the peace. But for once, I was dying to know what could be.

So I caved, texted first, and fell in headfirst.

What we had was instant, a click I’d never felt. Like two worlds colliding, it was epic. The way our minds danced together was so effortless and I wasn’t used to this, someone so happy just to say hi to me, just to know I’m the one on the other end of the phone. I felt the most appreciated I ever had in my life. I immediately loved the feeling you gave me more than it’s easy to admit.

It went on like this for a while, where I was elated any time I saw your name pop up on my phone, which was countless times in one day. My phone never left my side if I could help it, and whenever it did because of clumsy catastrophes or parental provisions, I felt detached. But with you by my side, I was unstoppable. I could do anything because you said I could, and even if I failed, you’d still be right there to catch me. As sappy as it sounds, it was true. I had it bad.

But you had it worse. There were bad habits that you’d somehow tied me into, or maybe it was just some twisted coincidence that we met around that time, but you were always way riskier with those things than me. It was like a bunny versus a bear in the matter, I wish that was an over- exaggeration. You were the craziest person I’d ever met, and to this day it still stands. You never let people in, even your friends weren’t really friends, just partners in recklessness. But I guess that was always what I loved about us: how danger was a part of you, the fatality of our attraction, and the idea that I was the only one who could save you.

But as much as I wanted to, you didn’t even want to save yourself. Your family even sent you away to get better, which was torture for me not talking to you, but I knew it was the best thing for you, plus what could I do anyway?

I remember during Thanksgiving, being surrounded by warm food and even warmer family, all filling our plates and gathering around great-grandma to see what crazy stories she wanted to recall today. The whole time I was drawn to the wall that was charging my phone so I could excitedly welcome you home from rehab that day through texts. But you didn’t seem as excited to talk to me, and I started doubting what I felt.

And that’s when you said it.

I was shocked and a little scared, nobody had ever said that to me, not the way you meant it. Though I didn’t know then what it was I felt, I’d never felt so sure of myself or secure enough to say it until now.

And so I said it back. It felt like an empty promise at first, but I knew I’d grow into it, right?

Time passed and you said it every day. I liked hearing it, but not the burden attached to returning it. But I’d say anything you want to hear just because it was you, I wouldn’t do that for anyone else. I figured it was mutual.

Of course, I found the fatal flaw, the hidden secret, the factor that would break it all. She was the lie you claim you never told, but even so, how could you figure I’d be okay just being whatever we were? I guess I knew deep down it wouldn’t work like this forever with the distance, but couldn’t we at least try? If you had other intentions, you could’ve just come out clearly and said so, not writing between the lines and then claiming you wrote in all caps. How could you? I was myself with you, told you everything, and you hid so much… I wanted to think I knew you better than that but, I didn’t, whether it’s a truth I want to admit or not. I fell so hard for an idea that I didn’t even care about reality, ignoring the facts in front of me.

What hurts the worst is how quickly you turned on me and became a different You: the You I’d never encountered, the You I’d only ever heard about, the one you said was for everyone else BUT me. The special You I had was gone, shattered in an instant, and the real You didn’t give a f*** about me. I can’t ever forget how easily you let go: you didn’t even try to fight for us, to stick up for all I thought we’d built together that was clearly all in my head.

I hate that I texted first, I hate how quickly I fell, I hate how you made me feel special when I wasn’t, I hate thinking of all the time spent on you, I hate that you still crawl around in my mind, I hate that you’re my first love. Now I’ve sat here and written you a whole piece and you stay so f****d up you probably don’t even remember half of what we had. You probably can’t even recall the start of our story or the intricate details that are etched into my memory, because then it was all I knew.  I was just one in a million pieces of gold in a world full of mines to you, and I couldn’t let that be. As hard as it was to take myself away from you, and to rip our worlds apart, mine was too big and too special to be shoved into your pocket whenever you wanted to pick up someone else’s. I treasure my gold too much to give it to you anymore, and I’m sorry to say you will search dark mines endlessly to find something like it.

The author's comments:

this is the story of my first "love," or at least the first time I said it in a romantic sense. It was also my first experience with a long distance relationship, as well as my first true encounter with firsthand heartbreak.

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