I Will Never Forget Him

Signs That Might He Care

Thought we were moving on to the high school years? Sike, I lied. Well, not really, I just forgot a happening in middle school that I feel is essential to the telling of this story. Sorry for the backtrack but we're just gonna make a quick pit stop at eight grade and then back on the road to high school. Sorry.

I was in school and during science I had this horrible stomach ache. Well, I ended up going to the bathroom and puking my brains out. Now, this girl I really hated offered to take me to the nurse. I usually would have said no, because I hate dealing with people that bother me, but I felt like I was going to pass out. The girl went to my science class after that and told the teacher I was sick. I ended up going to the nurse, where they had to send me home.

When I got home, I took about a two hour nap and when I woke up, it was like I'd never been sick. Seeing as I was feeling better, I asked my cousin to come over and she ended up wanted to go to the park. Given it was a nice day out and I was feeling pretty good, I told her I'd take her. 

Mistake numero um.

As soon as I got to the park's entrance, I groaned. For some strange reason a lot of people I went to school with were there. As my cousin played, I eyed everyone carefully. Eventually the eight grade pothead came up to me. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting him.

"Hey I thought you were sick?" he asked skidding his bike to a halt in front of me.

"I was but I took a nap and felt better. It must have been something I ate." Then he made a snide ass comment that pissed me off. For the life of me though I can't remember it. Shortly after that, I decided it was getting late. So I went up to my cousin and told her we'd be leaving in a few minutes. Then I walked over to sit on a bench. But when I sat down, there he was, standing where I once stood. Shocked and confused, I stood up to go back but he had already turned to leave.

Mistake numero dois.

That has to be one of the more painful memories. Not really the situation itself, but the question that stuck with me. What if? What if I had turned around instead of going to sit down? What if I just stood there a little bit longer so he could have tapped me on the shoulder? What if ...but that's just it, they're 'what if's?'. I can wonder all I want. Would we have been friends in high school or possibly even, no matter how far fetched it seemed, a couple. But all that wondering just made me hurt myself more. Did he come to ask if I was OK? Did he actually care about me? But God only knows that. I wish I knew. Frankly, I don't care anymore but my past self would've loved to know.

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A second memory I have is from the last day at school; it was my second class of the day. I sat in social studies, with Jack behind me and I was just a nervous wreck. This was before I'd given him the letter so I was a bit edgy. During this period, people were handing out their year books. I'd only boght one because my mom wanted me to have 'memories'. Bullshit memories if you ask me. Only two people I knew signed it that period.

As everyone went around laughing and signing made-up songs, I sat in my chair, doodling and reading. I was just scribbling down stupid drawings when I saw someone approaching me. Of course, it had to be him. Without a word, he stopped in front of me and handed me his year book.

"Thanks." I said quietly but excitedly. I was a fucking idiot. Who says thanks when someone wants you to sign their year book? 

With a shaky hand, I signed my name but I wanted to put more. I wanted to write 'I love you. Please love me too.' but I didn't. When I first wrote this, I wondered what he did with my signature. Did he look at it occasionally and think of me or did he laugh and say what I fool I was? Does he still have the letter I wrote him? Does he reread it time and time again? All these questions raced through my mind and all they did was hurt me more. It's hard to sit here and wonder if someone loves you just as much as you love them. I wanted to let go and forget but all those little signs kept me hanging on. Maybe he did like me, at least at some point. 

Maybe he might've even fallen in love with me in his own way. But I had to shoot down all these maybe's because it'd been two years with nothing. No attempt to talk to me or even make contact. I saw him everyday and I saw how happy he was, but he was secretly killing me. He never saw how much he'd hurt me and I hated him. I hated him so much but I still loved him. And he continued to give me those stupid little signs till the day I through my graduation cap in the air. I tried ignoring the signs.  I just wanted to ignore him. The more I held, on the more I break. I loved him but I knew he didn't love me. His stupid signs were what keep my heart mended together, though. So I needed them no matter how small.