Hello. My name is... Well, let's be honest here. My name doesn't matter. At least not yet. Whether or not this story gets noticed or my name does, none of this truly matters. You might actually agree. I know what some might say, "If none of this matters, then why are you writing this?" Truth is I'm not sure.
Part of me says it's to vent and relieve myself from stress, while the other part is saying that deep down I want this to be known. Maybe there's part of me that believes the main topic of this story discovers this and things will happen for the best..
Who am I kidding, I'm a fool, probably the world's biggest fool at that.
Now one word that stands out in the title of this chapter is "Love" ,something I never thought I'd experience. To answer your curiosity this is about someone I love, but I DO NOT consider this a love story. Love stories have sunshine and rainbows with happy endings, while this story contains heartbreaks and sorrow. Then again doesn't all the great love stories contain heartbreaks and sorrow?
Consider this whatever you will, love story or not; It's still my life. Which means most of this--No. ALL of this really happened and it all happened within my personal experience. But speaking of my life, in order to make some later scenarios clear I must bring some backstory and good ol' facts now.
First things first, I am a 16 year old heterosexual teenage male in his Junior year of High school. I was given birth in August, of year 2000 and was born into an African-American heritage. I was raised in the church and grown to be a respectable Christian. My Mother and Father were never truly together so my existence into the world didn't seem to help them become a team neither. My relationship with my father had been as dependent as a Tarantino film being rated PG so my mother found herself playing both roles through raising me. I have one brother from my Mom's side with a different father that I lived with most of my life and last but not least...I'm secretly schizophrenic.
Now when I say secretly, I mean I kept that from quite a lot of people. In fact, most. The only few people that know are a few friends that I earned up the courage to vent to, My most recent ex, and my best friend. (Oh and of course, now you) My best friend is actually the first I've told and first I felt I could trust more than anyone to keep such a secret because..well, she's my best friend.
Yes, she's a "she". Meaning she's a "her" ,also meaning she's in fact a girl If that wasn't clear enough.. Here I am. A teenage guy, best friends with a teenage girl. What could go wrong? Oh how I asked myself that question a few times and regretted it ever since. As far as how long we've been best friends is about, 3 and a half years (which I'm rounding to 4) and you would think out of 4 years that at least one of us had emotional issues towards each other.
Now most people don't trust the fact that there are Girl and Guy best friend relationships out there because of 1 out of 3 reasons:
1) You could possibly catch feelings for each other.
2) Depending on comfortability, sexuality, and situation it could be difficult discussing relationship issues or discussing how you feel about another person because you never know if the other friend is willing to listen to such topic because of their comfortability, sexuality or situation.
3) Both.
In this case it very much involves reason number 3. I have been living with the unwanted guilt, pain, and shame of being in love with my best friend. How unfortunate.
Some have been lucky enough to receive the best outcome of such disaster and the rest have not. I have no words for those who have won, you've received your victory and I send them best wishes to proceed in a happy life.
For those who have lost, we are not so different. I find myself pondering on failures each and every day and the one that reoccurs is the failure of myself unwilling to let go. It amazes me of how sad it is and I can feel my body stiffen with countless pity.
Pity has become my blanket from being that frequent of me falling asleep with it on my mind. It saddens me. It comforts me. It speaks to me, thus the schizophrenia.
Oh but don't get me wrong. My pity for love wasn't the spark of my disease, oh no. I had schizophrenia long before I fell for a lost cause. My pity for love is what drives it. Schizophrenia is like a healthy and strong heart and my pity is the blood pumping through, keeping it alive, except it's the opposite of healthy.
Love can send a wave of hatred through my mind in an instant and there is really NO warning...No preparation.
As long as I continue to write this, continue to breathe, continue to love, I will forever be...
Confined.
