Suicide shall never be an option for me. However, the idea of it sits in the back of my mind—like a shy delinquent student in the back of a classroom—along with reasons as to why I shouldn’t commit to the activity. Excuses such as heartbreak is never a reason to wear a noose as a necklace, even if seeing “Ms. Break-My-Heart” everyday doesn’t make the problem better. But, I can’t blame her for the existence of my sadistic behavior. A part of my depressed attitude and tarnished self-value is due to my eagerness to love her, to express my love to everyone around us, and then hide my love from her afterwards.
At the age of twelve, “love” is music. Not music in general, but, a daily radio-play type of music. Everyday, we hear the word “love” being handed off in romantic movies, inspirational TV shows, and for most boys, adulterated “love” films. Growing up, we (tweens) hear the word being tossed around as an action by our idols, so, in the sense of emotion, we throw it around too. Well, maybe just me. I have surrounded the word “love” with quotation marks because “love” is simply an item at the age of twelve, an item I so desperately desired to have in my hands.
When I was twelve, I never thought about relationships or anything of that nature. My mind was focused on making it past the seventh grade. Life was pretty disgusting in the seventh grade. Just making it past the hallways was tough. All I could see was a sea of young lovers feeling each other. I thought to myself, “Am I really in the seventh grade?” Oh, how I wish I never experienced that again.
Every Wednesday, I attended church for Bible Study. The highlight of those Bible Study services was after, when I got to meet up with my friend, Janice. It’s a little weird that all of my friends were girls. Janice was a lighter shade of brown, with almond shaped eyes that were colored brown. At the time, Janice had golden tips on her tamed curly hair. Her lips were petite in comparison to her subtle protruded cheeks that would light up—like the burners atop a stove—every time she smiled. To me, she was beautiful, but, I chose to look past that exterior beauty. I was having too much fun recognizing her interior beauty. Janice was the perfect pal for me. She was a friend and nothing more.
No, she was a beautiful friend, inside-and-out and much more. As we grew with age, my “love” for her grew immensely. I was in the eighth grade, and she was in the seventh grade. I loved Janice more every day. Just seeing her walk past me, made me gush out a thousand emotions. I couldn’t contain myself. Like every person who’s fell in love, my feelings blatantly revealed itself with a personality change. I went from having a mellow mood to being an irritating joy monkey.
Our friendship was about six months old at the time. How is it possible that I fell in love with her that fast?
On Thanksgiving Day, I seriously couldn’t hold it in me anymore. I had to tell somebody about the “love” I had for Janice. I was such a stupid eight grader. I told anybody that was within our circle, from her friends to my friends. I even told her best friend, Eva. I said to Eva, “Hey, I’m deeply in love with Janice.”
She replied, “Yeah, it’s quite obvious.”
“Wait, seriously?” I said back to her.
“Yes. Do you want me to hook y’all up?” she asked.
“No”, I replied. “Don’t even tell her.”
“Ok,” she said back, “She was kinda asking me if you liked her and stuff ‘cause you were acting all strange”.
Thanksgiving Night at church was awful. I was extremely nervous and scared. I didn’t want Janice to confront me about my feelings. Every time she talked to me, I began to sweat. When she looked at me, I looked away. It was too much to handle.
The next day was Black Friday. I decided to confront my feelings. I saw Janice at church. She was in a parking lot in the back of a pick-up truck with Eva. I approached them. Eva was staring at me blankly.
“Hey, Janice, I have to tell you something.”
“What is it?” Janice asked. Eva began to giggle, making my nervous heart a little heavier.
My heart began to pound hard—harder than beating drums in Africa- as I said, “I’m in love with you.” Her eyebrows started pointing down at her nose slowly as she stared at me. Eva began to look away as only she knew what Janice was about to say. My heart just a little heavier than before as Janice took a deep breathe.
“What? Get away from me,” she said. Away my soul goes, as Janice’s words rushed me out of the scene. I’ve never been so hurt before.
For the remainder of the school semester, the only things that existed between Janice and I was silence, and a few angry facial expressions. Her round cheeks never lit up anymore when she looked at me. She recolored her golden tips black. Every physical feature that attracted me to Janice was changed.
Everyday of my life was miserable. I had seen Janice everywhere I was.
This year she will turn eighteen. I will be nineteen the day after. Every year, I’ve seen her fall in and out of love with a new guy. For once she has had a long lasting relationship. Every post on Instagram, Snapchat, and Twitter about her boyfriend that I viewed has killed my soul.
This situation has altered me in many ways. I am a shy and shallow person. I’m so sensitive to constructive criticism. I am very indecisive now. I have a hatred for myself. Janice and I are still friends, but, it feels like I am committing suicide by being her friend because I see her almost every day and she talks a lot about her boyfriend.
Catching feelings for someone is like holding the blade of a double edged sword. In any way that I hold it, I still get hurt.