To the Boy Who Broke My Heart

Blog followers (all 3 of you..), tonight will be a somber sort of post. Sometimes, I do these things that I wonder WHY in the world I would do them, especially because I know how it is going to end. I made this poor decision this evening to read some letters from a missionary I used to write. I loved him, a lot. I waited for him, I wrote him for two years, and I thought, at the very least, we would date when he got back. His name is Arah. No. He doesn't get the courtesy of a nick name because I don't believe he deserves discretion. Only my friends I will protect from their shame. Not him, though. Not him.
A brief back story on he and I, and how our relationship developed. He was 16 (almost 17) and I was 14. Now, I am not sure at ALL how we even started speaking. I don't know if someone gave me his email and I just went for it, or what. But, we started talking on evening on MSN messenger. Do you  remember those days?? Ah, what innocent bliss. We chatted for hours! From around 8 pm until 3 am. We went to sleep for a couple of hours, and by 6 am, we were chatting again. Now, I was a smart girl. I would talk to strangers, however, I wasn't one to go meet them anywhere. However, I was sooo interested in this boy. He was so nice and innocent. Sweet, like a Disney Prince.
Well, one day, we decided to meet. It was awkward for the first little while, but we played Scene It with a few of my friends. In the end, we all had a wonderful time, and my affection for him grew just a little stronger.  We kept in contact constantly though out the years. When I turned 16, he took me on my first date. It was, by far, one of the best dates I have been on to this day. We walked around a pond, I took off my shoes, and he chased me and we laughed. It was perfect. One regret? I didn't let him kiss me. Now days, I don't know if it is better that he didn't, but I wish I would have.
When I was 17, he turned 19. I am sure you can guess what that means. It was time he served a mission. Before he left, he took me to homecoming. That was the only formal dance I have ever been asked to. It didn't matter to me until after I graduated. Now, it matters.
When he left on his mission, I cried. Big fat elephant tears. I was a coward and couldn't go to his house for his farewell party. I went to his talk though. It was wonderful. I still have the program.
The one part I was looking forward to were the letters. Letters have so much power. They can make your day! Or break it. Letters are a true expression of feelings in my opinion. If you are taking the time to write feelings down, that means something. And boy.. did we write our feelings down. We would end every letter with "love your guts". It escalated later on. Love your smile. Love you. We made plans. He would always tease me that I would be married when he got back. I told him, no! I was waiting for him. These are the naive thoughts of a teenage girl. But, in LDS culture, I assumed that when you waited for someone, and devoted all of that time to one human being, it meant a little more. It doesn't.
He was one of the only boys who called me beautiful, and gorgeous and I believed him. With my whole heart. I invested my whole heart into him. I didn't look at other boys, I didn't date other boys. Not at all. He made me what to be better and do better. He never understood why. I told him he was wonderful, and handsome. I adored him. When I got letters from him, I would literally scream at the top of my lungs. I would do happy dances no matter where I was. When I didn't hear from him, I worried, but only for his safety. I knew we were okay. He liked me. I liked him. There wasn't anything I had to fear.
He would tell me that when he got my letters, he glowed. That he missed his bus once because he was so excited. He would write me on trains, and tell his companions about me. He teased me, he complimented me, and he strengthened me. He liked me, even when I was going though my "emo" phase of skipping school, watching R rated movies, and cussing. I never did that around him, but he knew. And he didn't care.
When he got back, I expected him to be different. I assumed he would need some time to get his life out of the mission lifestyle. I was content to wait. To be patient. I thought he would maybe speak to me a little more than he did. But, he started to drift. He came to visit me once with his best friend, Shawn. (Hey bro!) He came to see me one more time after that. He brought his sister. It was very, very awkward.
I tagged along with Shawn to his homecoming talk. He ignored me the entire time. I literally fell asleep on the couch. And? I cried. I cried so hard. He would say he was sorry he was so busy, that he was looking for work. But, he just stopped trying. He used to tell me I was such a great friend. He said he was so lucky to have me and that I was a keeper ;). He must be a prince with the devil's tongue because I believed that.
One day, he told me he had moved to California. He was born there. I cried then, too. He just up and left. Didn't even tell me until he was already there. I would ask him straight out, if he wanted to talk. If he even wanted to be friends. He said of course. And yet, he stopped trying. In turn, I stopped trying too.
It was just a few months that he had been home, and he was dating another girl. A few months after that, they were married. And me? I have been wallowing ever since. I used to be so full of life and light. I had hope, and believed in romance and dreams coming true. That child-like part of me slowly dimmed throughout that time. Now, I am a bitter, cynical, heartless wench. Okay, maybe that is dramatic. But I haven't been happy like that since.
Now, when I have friends who have boyfriends that go on missions, I always tell them not to wait. Not to put their life on hold and miss out on going out with boys and friends. I did that. It is, by far, the biggest regret of my life. I don't regret loving him. I don't regret falling head over heels for a sweet, funny, kind boy who made me feel loved. I do regret that I didn't keep a realistic image in my head. My whole family, my friends, if I let them, would read the letters. They all thought that we would get married when he got home. A part of me wanted them to be right, but I knew I had to wait and see.
Unfortunately, what I saw and what happened has put a damper on my spirit. I haven't felt the need or desire to try living for anyone else. I can barely life my life for myself. I can hardly live it in a way that my Heavenly Father would be proud of. Instead, I am putting along with blinders on and my head down. I would fall for kind words and shining eyes at any chance. Forget if the guy was married. Forget if they didn't believe what I did. And forget it if they didn't give a rat's arse about me. I didn't care. I have been trying for 3 years now to get over this. Slowly, it seems I have been. However, I think this is something that I will carry with me for a large part of my life. Why the Lord believes I need to be alone, miserable, and borderline losing it, I don't know. I am not sure what sort of lesson I was supposed to learn from a heartbreak like this. What good did it do?? I can tell you it did absolutely nothing. Sometimes, I just want to give up on life and lie on the floor, biting my knees and just wait for the ache to go away.
It dulls, it does. But, it has stayed with me this whole time. Every once in a while, like tonight, it lashes back with such sharp force, it takes my breath away. It is my fault sometimes. I will read those letters, letters of him telling me he loved me and my smile. That he couldn't wait to see me again. German phrases that I would have to translate on google. But, I want to remember what is is like to be loved like that. It was pure. Innocent. No underlying agendas. It just was.
I am looking for that again. Something effortless and natural. Something real. But more than that, something that lasts. And I worry that I won't find anything better than what almost was with him. He was my first real love. And, I also want to punch him in his face for ruining me.
Anyways, that is enough moping for the evening. I love you guys, and hope you have a swell night.