I sit here almost every day wondering why and how. I can’t piece together why anyone should have to feel this way. It’s a tear between hatred beyond bearable and a love that is impossible to toss aside. I try to tell myself that everything happens for a reason, that just because the reason has yet to cross my path, doesn’t mean that it’s only a hopeful wish. It all started with a single effect in my life that snowballed into an avalanche. To a point where, there is no one to trust, and to a point where I have no sister to watch grow up.
Do you know the people you go to school with? Do you know the people in your life well enough to tell whether they simply live, or hide behind a secret curtain? It’s safe to say that school is one of the main reasons that people turn out like they do. You have the” preps, and jocks”. They get their punishment later in life when you go to your high school reunion and they’re over weight, divorced and have kids who don’t know who their father is. Then you have the “nerds”. The ones everyone ignores and jokes around about. Just until they come to the reunion and are rich, work at NASA and accomplish things like Microsoft. The last main group is the middle group. That’s the one I place myself in. The group that isn’t quite good enough (or don’t really want to be in) the high group, but will punch anyone in the face who has something to say. Me, I’m not a very violent person. The point is that no one knows where their life is going. No one knows how they’ll end up for sure. In the end you either get things thrown at you early in life or later, hopefully not both. He was in the middle class too. I thought he felt the same exact way. I thought, well, I thought a lot of things that turned out different.
I still haven’t taken our pictures down off of my wall yet, though I should. I guess I’m hoping that he’ll knock on my front door and hold out his arms so I can bury my face into his chest and cry, and we’d live happily…before this happened. People tell me it’s ok. I…am…so…sick…of those words. It is not ok. What is ok about someone going through this? What is ok about me getting my heart ripped into pieces by the one person I let in? I NEVER want to hear it again. I still see his shaggy dark brown hair. I can still feel his warm breath on my hair when he held me close. His soothing voice kept me calm and his golden, brown eyes hypnotized me and I hate it. I felt so…safe and secure, but now because of him, I no longer see my sister. I can no longer hear her or be with her. He told me he loved me and I believed him because, well, I felt love. I felt what he pretended to feel. I felt what he never did between us. What would have happened if I didn’t find out? Would he still fake it? Would he continue to be with me, marry me, and act happy? I just wanted love again for once since Virginia.
People are always telling me that I couldn’t have known. I couldn’t have ever guessed. I wanted to scream with all my might, that night. That was a lie. I could have known and I could have tried to find out, except for the fact that I didn’t want to. I wanted it all perfect. I could have prevented the body bags and the ambulance. I hate him with pure hatred, though I love him with unending legacy.