Memories of an Old Friend | ✓

01 | you are mine

01 | you are mine

You know, I was already in love with someone when I was fourteen. I knew that, because he had clawed his way into my heart without even trying—literally. He didn't even have to look at me. 

Well, the only exception was when he looked at me with great distaste—and he also made me feel funny in my stomach whenever he spoke to me (which he rarely did) and when he did, it was to ask me about Bianca or throw evil words at me. I was kind of immune to them, as they were a daily part of my routine now. They'd been since 5th grade, anyway.

I liked the banter. Even if it was dangerously close to the territory of being considered racism.

But, he was perfect despite that. The way his smile lit up the whole room like fireworks on New Year's Eve or the way he could make anyone feel special in a matter of seconds if he truly tried. There were many times where he tried. Just not with me.

He despised me (a lot like how I despise myself right now) which was a lot different than how he felt for my best friend—whom he adored like I adored flowers and who he loved endlessly. I think all those petty angsty novels finally got to my head; two teenagers who hate each other with great distaste, finally end up being soulmates. I mean, if so many people had written about it, it must have a slight truth in it, no?

I enjoyed life when I was fourteen. I loved breathing and I loved going to school because there I could see him and I loved staring at him and his features (that still had to mature). He made me feel like everything was okay, even if he didn't move his finger an inch. What was not to love about life?

My friends (I don't know how they knew I liked him. I guess it was obvious whenever I looked at him like he was my entire world or the fact that I stopped giving him rude comments back that everyone was used to) often asked me why I felt something for him. Wasn't he rude and disrespectful towards me?

I couldn't answer them this question. Maybe sometime in the future. Maybe never. My mind was too clouded with Johannes and his beautiful name and face. His personality was so great and lovable—but not to me. But I still had hope that we could become something. Anything.

Anything could work right now.

Four months into my overall unhealthy infatuation with stolen glances and adored looks towards Johannes—why did I love his name? I still do. Well, three months into my infatuation with Johannes, I got to know you.

You with your tall (I think it was something around 5'9 feet, although I'm not so sure. You're probably more aware of it. For being a ninth grader, you sure were tall) and lean physique, short dirty blonde hair and intense blue eyes.

The typical white boy look. Not sure how you stood out despite that.

God, not to sound creepy, but I love your eyes. Your lips, your smile, your ears, your hair, your hands, your face.

You paraded around the crowded hallways with your five other dashing friends who literally never left your presence.

I don't know why, but I was always one of them who turned my curious attention on you whenever you casually passed by. You were different and your life looked like it put everyone else's to shame. Mine included.

I knew your sweet girlfriend, Anette. Even if we didn't live on the same side of the country, we were still great friends. She was my "person", even if I wasn't hers. I wasn't probably even her second choice. I didn't know that later, she would turn out to be my only friend in the world, but first thing first.

When I first talked to you, it was because I was completely over the moon. I was happy and I do irrational things whenever I'm happy. I might have learned from it in the future. 

I wasn't thinking when I did what I did back then. And now, because of that, I regret ever sending that exact text message that ruined my life for the next three years.

Yes, you did that.

are you happy about anette's visit next week? I had sent to you, unaware of the repercussions of this specific text. Do you still remember me sending you this? Because I seem to remember everything about you and it kind of hurts. 

I don't know what caused me to send you this, unnecessary message. I had never talked to you before, so why now? My subconscious knew why. You were cool and I just wanted to get to know you better. Especially since you're Annette's boyfriend. I regret it.

i get that you're her friend, i do, but why're you texting me this? ofc i'm happy. I still remember these exact words.

Wish I didn't send that text you.

That was the beginning of the attention that was lit towards fourteen year old me. I was a girl who loved the dazzling spotlight and I loved the attention I was getting later on. I still do, honestly. Sometimes, I even miss it.

I loved that you six boys were making it out as if I was something special. That I was truly worth yours, or anybody's time at all. My friendship was rocky with Bianca, seeing as she was on the verge of ending up with who I thought was the "love of my life" back then. She was beautiful and confident. I was neither. Although I loved talking to people and befriending them, I couldn't measure up to Bianca. Never.

She was perfect. But I knew how she was on the inside. How sad she was as well. She told me so herself. Johannes was her crutch, something stable she could hold on to so she wouldn't fall. I know that if she fell, she'd never be able to pick herself up again. 

Too bad I didn't know this then.

I loved how you fooled me in between all of that, telling me that I was better than Bianca in terms of personality and how Johannes was blind. Making me believe that Johannes loved the wrong girl.

Yours truly.