Before I begin, I would just like to say that I’m not proud of most of the things that I’ve done. I’ve always put myself into certain situations without any regard for the consequences. My story isn’t as intense as some others might be, who have written their memoirs dedicated to their intense drug use or life as a homeless person. I’ve never been addicted to any certain drug, unless attention from men suddenly comes in a pill form. My story is simple and not much different from most; I am a girl with a broken heart constantly searching for ways to fill my void.
I drink until the sun comes up, and while I’m not a drug addict, I’ve experimented a little too much even for my standards. I wasn’t always like this. Every time I wake up in unfamiliar surroundings wondering how I got there, I promise myself this is the last time I will ever do this. It truly is the one of worst feelings, not knowing what you did the night before. Knowing you did things that you never would have done in a sober state of mind.
Nothing compares to the humiliation you suffer the morning after a night of drinking. I’ve ruined more than one relationship because of my constant black outs. Besides my typical hangover, which usually consists of a migraine headache or a nauseous stomach, the emptiness that I felt could not be fixed with Tylenol. Each morning I ask myself the same questions over and over again, why do I continue to do this to myself? and how did I let it get this bad?
As a young girl, I had a distinct plan for my life. I would graduate high school, go to a Christian college and meet the man of my dreams, who would also wait to have sex until we were married. I was so determined to stay as the epitome of the ultimate good girl next door, if such a thing even exists.
After all these years, if there is anything I have learned it’s this: Most people pretend to be something they’re not. Don’t get me wrong, I have met a few decent human beings who are actually genuine, but they are far and few in between. I’ve been let down by so many people who I thought would never hurt me, and each time it feels like the first. That is one of my biggest character flaws; I always assume the good in people. Some say that it’s a good quality, well I’d like them to go through what I have and I’m sure they’ll quickly change their minds.
Another issue I’ve learned about myself is that it’s actually impossible for me to let go. Friends, boyfriends, pets, you name it. I’m not talking about death here; I just can’t handle moving on. I cried hysterically at my high school graduation. If someone is mad at me, all of my thoughts will be consumed on how I can fix it. When a boyfriend wants out, I will lose my mind. I may be crazy, but I don’t care. I’ve been called “crazy” enough in my life that I wonder if I actually am, or if I’m too emotional for everyone’s standards. After all these years, I finally decided that I don’t give a shit anymore, or at least I’m trying. I always wondered if my senseless, yet analytical mind was either a curse or a gift.
So one may ask, "what happened to this average young girl on the road to happiness and success?" It might sound pathetic to say that my life went down hill because falling in love changed my life for the worst. But like it or not, I became a train wreck. I was only 18, but it feels like it lasted forever. I never really got over him, and I still think about him everyday. That rule that most say, “it takes half the time you dated someone to get over them” is bullshit. Who the hell is anyone to say how long another should be grieving? If that was actually true, then maybe I actually am crazy. Falling in love gives someone else the power to potentially destroy you. We all know it, but how boring would life be if we didn’t have someone to share it with? But what if they damage you forever? Is it worth it then?
There is only one constant difference between the first time you fall in love from any other time after that: You’ve never been hurt by someone you love before. It is inevitably going to happen to everyone at one point in his or her life, but that fact doesn’t make that dreadful pit in your stomach go away. You can’t eat or sleep. It’s as if the world as you know it, is over. It’s hard to breathe, whether you’re in a crowd full of people or sitting in a room completely by yourself. It’s like when someone knocks the wind out of you when you’re not expecting it. Once you realize that this love that you thought you had was all a lie… well, it’s unbearable. Love is fragile; all we can do is do our best to keep from breaking it. I guess it’s true what they say; unfortunately, you never forget your first love.
His name was Alan. Oh, what can I say about Alan. Actually, I have a lot to say but I don’t even know where to begin. He was and still is the bluntest guy I have ever met. He would be the one to straight up tell you that he didn’t like your new haircut and ask you why in the world would you ever think of cutting it. But I liked that he was honest, even though he embarrassed me most of the time. He was a momma’s boy, and I hated it until we broke up. I never thought to realize that guys would treat their future wife the way they treat their mother. I never really tried to get to know her while we were together. I still try not to think about that because I still regret it incessantly, for it would eventually become one of the many reasons of our break up.
He was obnoxiously obsessed with his car to a ridiculous degree. He loved to show off his Nissan 350Z as if it were a fucking Lamborghini. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice car but if you saw him with it, you would roll your eyes at him too. But I loved it. He barely thought before he said anything. He was always late. He could be so incredibly inconsiderate at times. Yet, I loved that boy with all of my heart, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. He wasn’t my first boyfriend, either. I dated my high school sweetheart for two years before I even met Alan. However, I knew that my relationship with Alan was different, more serious and passionate. I know that I slightly may have taken him for granted when I had him, but I also know that I did not deserve what he did to me in the end.
I never would have thought that the day Alan and I broke up would officially be the end of that good girl persona that I so desperately wanted to keep up. Like most “good girls”, I never really was that girl. My entire life I feel like I’ve been standing on a wall peaking at what was on each side, just waiting for the opportunity to present itself for me to jump. Well, I jumped all right. Along this long road I had planned out for myself, I became the exact opposite of who I wanted to become. However, everyone changes and everyone evolves. It doesn't have to be a bad or a good thing, it just shapes you into the person that you were meant to become. Through the lessons that you learn, you can either choose to learn from them, or give up on what can eventually turn into a meaningful life.