My Autobiography.. Sort of.

The Girl In My Basement

Love is a beautiful thing. It's strong, binding, wonderful.
But it can also be horrible, painful, and destroys the soul. I learned that the hard way, thanks to the girl in my basement.

Early one year, this girl, let's call her Kitty, told me she was in love with me. And I, having had a crush on her for the past seven months, was blown away. I was happy. I was free.

Except I was trapped.

This girl was moving into my basement in two weeks. I couldn't be with her, that would require lying to my parents, and that, to them, is one of the worst things a person could do. And also I'm lds. It was against everything I was taught and knew was true. I didn't care about that earlier in life, when I had a girlfriend who I'd planned to elope with, but I had come so far that I couldn't let Kitty destroy all of that progress. I broke it off after seven hours.

The following two weeks were filled with suicidal threats and feelings, hatred, forgiveness, and quickly moving on. On her side. She moved into my basement. I got a job. All was fine. I only saw her on the weekends.

Fast forward six months, filled of my angst and my do I love her's and I don't love her moments until I lost that job and I had time to reflect on my own self and my feelings and all I had done to get over the girl I proclaimed I didn't have any feelings for other than physically. I realized I was in love with her.

I was in love with her.

It was painfully obvious from the countless songs and poems and unsent texts I had written, but somehow I had managed to convince myself it wasn't true until then.

I began a journey of getting over her. I started to get my life back together. Talked to the bishop about some stuff. But I fell off the wagon again, allowing myself to delve into the what ifs? And who cares what I do's?

It wasn't until a night in my room, when I was playing Uno with her, that things finally changed for the better.

Drive by Halsey was playing in the background, and my stomach was in knots because that was a song we had held hands to in silent hopes one night back in the January before. She didn't recognize it, and continued being happily hyper, making me realize that she had really moved on. I became very, very sad, and tried not to cry as my eyes looked anywhere but at her. She didn't notice, as she was blabbering about a book she had been reading and shuffling the uno cards.

My eyes wandered to the picture of Jesus I have on my wall. It's the one that has red robes, the popular one that lds have everywhere. It's my personal favorite. I looked at his warmly painted face, and I decided that it was for the best, after all.

And then she asked me about the Holy Ghost and other things. I eagerly explained, the sadness drifting away. As I explained and we played Uno, and talked about all sorts of things within the Gospel, I looked at that Jesus painting, and I felt at peace for the first time in a long, long time. Kitty was not a distraction anymore. I had let go of my feelings for her, and I accepted it. I was at peace, and I was so grateful.

I'm still grateful.