The Dog Days of Summer

1

Welcome to sophomore year, the year of AP courses. 

Sophomore year was overall really successful. I had the privilege to go on many trips from medical trips to competitions to field trips and college visits. I even got chosen to go to Europe for a trip that would take place the following year. I feel like I was more involved with education and athletics during my sophomore year, unlike my freshman year. I was passing my classes and participating in extracurricular activities. 

But I dont think anyone cares about that stuff anyway. Everyone wants to know how bad I've got it. You wanna hear the chisme.

So I'll tell you. 

I was a lovesick teenager. 

I wanted to be like all those people on Twitter that went on picnic dates or starry night carnivals. Social media alters everyone's viewpoint of things. 

In my first period class, this one particular boy that stood out to me. I thought he was really handsome and amazing and great. 

I always seem to be infatuated with boys at first, but when they start to notice me I just don't find them as attractive anymore. It's confusing, I think I just like the hard to get boys. They just have me hooked with their inconsistency.

I saw him a couple of times at my soccer games, but I never really attempted to talk to him until he switched into my second period. It was so exciting. Two classes together. 

First period, he sat across the room from me, but in second period he was just a chair away. He was right where I wanted him to be. I was just blessed with that kind of superpower. 

Whenever his backpack was open I would always walk up from behind him and close it for him and then start a conversation. It was like my cue. This is where our story begins.

We started hanging out all the time. We hung out in the mornings, during brunch, between periods, after school. On Saturday we would meet up at our soccer games and watch each other play. We had the same jersey number. Fate or coincidence?  

I guess this is where I disappoint you again. Ready? 

I grew tired of him. After a couple of weeks of talking, he just seemed less attractive to me. He actually got weirder. I don't want to offend him, he probably confided in me. He trusted me enough to open up to me, and I judged him. 

Ever heard the saying, "The more you want me, the less I want you?" That literally explains me.

The heart just stops loving when you least expect it, when you most want it to. 

He used to call me Chula. We shall give him the name of Chulo. And I don't mean cholo. Cholo is a gangster, Chulo is like a cutie/sweetie.

After a couple of weeks everything he did just annoyed me. It's always the things that once had you hooked in the beginning that annoy you at the end. His voice, his cologne, his face.

But it was more so the mannerisms that bothered me rather than the physicality. He desperately conformed to society and it was apparent that he was socially inept. I'd like to label myself a risk taker. A big impulsive, careless, rebellious. I live for experiences, I live for fun. I don't live for anyone else, but myself. 

He said I wasn't like other girls. He was right. I'm worse. 

Lesson 9: Love yourself before you love someone else.