No-one's Got It All, A Short Story

One week ago she dumped me. One whole week. I don't think I've ever been more into someone in my entire life, granted I haven't lived long yet, but still. She rocked my world, she was loud and blonde and shameless, whereas I was quiet and dark and reserved. I blamed myself at first, what did I do wrong... but the list grew too long, the guilt was too heavy on my shoulders, it was much easier to hate her. Hate her for breaking my heart. Hate her and her stupid bright smile. Hate her and her freaking twinkling eyes.

But we'd dated for too long for me to just simplify her to that. She had lost so much recently, she'd sung at her own grandmother's funeral. She'd been closer to her grandmother than most any granddaughter ever could have been. I'd told her not to cry while she told me about her black summer, I didn't know what to do if she'd cried then. But it had affected her, deeply. I don't think she ever got over it. 

Her mother had spun out of control after the death, diving into depression as easily as one would dive into a pool. Everything around her had fallen to pieces, and she, my ex, the girl I can't bring myself to hate, had fractured into a million pieces. After her grandmother's death, her older sister had birthed a stillborn baby girl. Then to top it off, her pet cat, an old and much loved monster had had to be put down.

She let me into a much darker side of her that no-one else had seen. She hurt but at school she put up a brave face and let on to no-one that she was breaking on the inside. I'd helped her put her pieces back together again, but she wasn't quite as carefree after that, her wildness became slightly more tame. 

And always, she'd told me she loved me. She told me that we'd never break up, she'd wait for me at university while I did my army service, we'd move to a far off country together and live a happy life. I'd been content with that dream, but perhaps she hadn't been. Maybe it had been too limiting on her careless self. She never let on though.

As much as she'd poured her heart out to me she'd asked me in return to tell her. I could trust her with anything and everything, I knew this full well. But I had only ever opened up to her once. Once. We'd dated for longer than most people could bother to remember, but we we're in high school, so that meant months and months and months. And I'd let her in once. Maybe that's why she got fed up of me and left.

No. I'm entitled to not tell her anything. But she'd told me that was ok, she got it if I didn't have anything to say, she never forced me, just like I never forced her into anything. We respected each other and loved each other. God that word stings now, loved. One week ago, she'd told me that "love" was too big a word for us to have yet, she'd stressed the yet part. We we're too young to know love, she told me, she didn't know what to do with that knowledge but she wanted to come to terms with that, and those terms hadn't included anyone, not even me.

I hated that I couldn't hate her. I hated that she hurt me. I feel insignificant, she doesn't seem to care. I guess I should have expected this, she's so much better than me. No, no, no. I mentally hit myself as hard as I can, the painful memory riding up...

..."I'm so lucky I have you." She smiles into my neck.

"Not half as lucky as I am to have you." I reply. She smacks my arm lightly and laughs, looking in my eyes.

"Don't think like that! You're so much better than I am, I..." she breaks off, looking sheepish, "I feel like I don't deserve to have such a great boyfriend like you sometimes. You're always so perfect, we're so perfect. But sometimes I feel like I don't measure up..."

"Shhh. Don't talk like that." And I silence her with a kiss and it was never spoke of again...

...Scrunching my hand into a fist, I punched my leg, I hated how vulnerable she could be, how much I wanted to protect her. So much so that I now have nothing to protect myself with. Against her. I want so much to hurt her like she hurt me. Ugh!