Like every male who has ever existed, I was infatuated with a girl. Mostly the idea of her. Making those green candy eyes light up, combing her strawberry blonde hair past her ear, and other cheesy stuff you’re tired of hearing about. I gave everything to this girl.
Time passed I told her how I feel and she didn’t feel the same. I actually didn’t know if she felt the same, I just told her that I loved her. And then I ran out. I did not care what she felt, I just had to get over that girl.
About a week after that I started seeing another girl.
I forgot to mention I will not say their names. Not for their privacy but because their names are very preciuos to me. This new girl we'll call her “Elizabeth” the old one will be called “Mary”.
Elizabeth was unconventionally beautiful, being with her was like buying a leather jacket in the thrift store. It’s far from perfect, but if you’re in the thrift store, chances are you’re not looking for perfect, you're not even looking for anything, but there it is… waiting to be worn and loved and used up. To make a long story short, I am no longer with Elizabeth. I went through the proper protocols. I deleted pictures, threw out letters, and discarded of stuffed animals. And maybe I cried a little, but that has nothing to do with the story.
It was saturday and I had nothing to do. Just fiddling on my guitar and I started thinking about elizabeth... I felt my teenage boy emotions about to pounce on me if I didn’t occupy myself. I started thinking about Mary, and how I haven’t thought about her in a long time. I felt proud of myself, for genuinely not caring about her anymore. Then I felt shame and embarrassment, for giving her everything I gave her, because I knew I just did becuase I thougth she was the preciously Beautiful thing God has ever made since David Bowie. I was just another shallow boy, obsessed with pretty girls. But then I remember I gave her my jacket, my favorite jacket.
That jacket has been through thick and thin with me, it was the best clothing a boy could ask for. It was originally my older brothers, but he didn’t appreciate the bold and mature design of the jacket so I took it for myself. It was always too big for me but I didn’t care because I loved it. Either way, I expected to fit into it in about two or three years. But I never know because I gave it to some girl.
I got angry, my jacket had to be with me. It was probably scared, alone, and losing its calm black hue. I called Mary, on my little black iphone4, and demanded my jacket back, trying to make myself sound as important and impatient as possible. But she could’ve cared less. Mary had no idea where my jacket was or if she even had it. I begged her to look for it, that I needed it. But she wasn't having it and asked with a motherly irritated  tone “ Why do you want it so bad?!” I didn’t even know. I think it I was trying to keep myself busy, I was having a lot of fun talking about an old, possibly not existent, jacket. “Never mind, now that I’m thinking about, I got tons of jackets just begging to wrap around my lanky body”
“Alright. Sorry. Bye”
“Bye”
In reality I only had to two.
Loves a lot like having a jacket. You wear your jacket, you look good in your jacket. But when someone else likes your jacket and you like their jacket, you let each other wear   jackets, especially if it’s a cold day. But sometimes they don’t give you their jacket or you don’t thiers. Their jacket looked like a mirabilia, but the fabric feels like hay. Some people never give back your jacket. Or they have no idea wear it is.