Love in Pieces

Love (luhv) – noun – 1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person. 2. sexual passion or desire. 3. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour. – verb (used with object) – 1. to have a strong liking for; take great pleasure in: to love music. 2. to embrace and kiss (someone), as a lover.

Love is an interesting thing. It controls your thoughts. It effects your actions. It causes you to embarass yourself in front of large quantities of people. It can lift your spirits. It can drag you through the mud. It can fill the empty void in your heart, and it can turn that void into a space in your chest where nothing is kept.

No one ever really knows if they’ve been in love. After all, the only thing we can compare love to are other emotions we’ve felt, yet, comparatively, we may be completely off the mark. I’ve had many friends who think they were in love, however, I believe that Shakespeare knew what he was talking about. He said something along the lines of “no matter what the other person becomes, no matter what the person does, you would always love them,” and I truly believe this.

I’ve only ever had one actual boyfriend. We met each other through my best friend at the time, and she had, in a way, hired me to see if he was starting to like her. Three months after she said she stopped liking him, he told me he really liked me, and very much wanted me to go on a date with him. I didn’t know exactly how I felt about him, and I knew I would feel guilty if I did go on a date with him. However, I was going to a hockey game about a week later, and I invited him to come with me as a friend. In between periods, we were walking around the arena, and he took my hand. This same thing happened each time we walked around between periods.

When the game was over, my father invited him to come to our house and hang out a little while longer. We watched a movie in my basement, and our hang out turned in to our first date when he kissed me.

My best friend found out, and she bitched me out. She claimed to still like him, and started telling people about what a bitch I was. How was I supposed to know, I said to her, that she still liked him after 3 months of saying she didn’t, and that the first time we hung out on our own he would display his affection to me in such a way. She bitched to him about me, and he refused to talk to her as she was being horrible to me. I realized I really did like him very much, and he said he fell in love with me almost immediately.

Two weeks later, I freaked out. I’d never been in a serious relationship before, and this developped to fast for me, and I broke up with him. I’ll never forget how he looked when I said I couldn’t do it anymore, and how he felt when he hugged me. As soon as I was away from him, I thought to myself, Shit. Why did I do that. I’m really going to regret this.

I did.

For months after that, I still wished I was with him. He kept telling me it was fine, and that we were still friends. I talked to him less and less.

Then, I found out he liked one of my other friends.

My heart flipped a switch. I knew I needed to be with him, and I didn’t know how to tell him. After all, I had broken his heart. I talked to him more, and I sensed a change in how he was talking to me since I’d broken up with him. For the months after I had broken up with him, he sounded withdrawn, but now, he sounded lively again. He talked to me about how he asked her out, and how she was so good to him when I broke up with him. The night he asked her out, he told me he loved me, and he regretted asking this other girl out, even though she rejected him. We talked about how we each felt, and we wanted to get back together. As we kept talking about it, he told me how his family would notice the difference yet again, and his mother would be suspicious of me as I had made him so… horribly sad before.

We were back together, and the next day we kissed underneath the stairwell when he was saying goodbye to me. That night, he told me it would be too weird if we stayed together and our friends knew. They would think we were stupid, or something like that. So it ended once again.

We didn’t talk much for months after that. Oncce in a while we would speak, and I would feel my heart freak out.

It was summer. I left to do music stuff around the world, and we hardly spoke. My friend, who still claimed to be my best friend, even though she is a part of what destroyed my relationship with the guy who still held my heart, had a bit of a summer get together at a fair. This get together consisted of me, my “best” friend, one of our friends from school, my best guy friend, and the guy who held my heart. The entire time, he and I flirted quite a bit and everyone noticed. At the end, it was just he and I left, and we were standing on the other side of the park outside my house. I was to move to a different country, and we weren’t going to see each other for many months. We hugged, and once again, I felt his heart beat incredibly fast. “You’re heart’s racing,” I said to him. “It happens whenever I’m around you.” He kissed my cheek, and I kissed him on the lips. He held my hands tightly and kissed me back. When we parted, he held my hand in his for an extra moment, whispering “I love you” as we separated. I replied “and I you,” and I moved away.

We texted each other every day, and we told each other every day how we loved one another.

Then, the end began.

He slowly stopped talking to me, and finally he told me he liked another girl. I wanted him to be happy, so I said go for it. Then, once he’d told me he asked her out, he told me who she was. It was the other girl who attended our get together at the fair. My friend. Who had listened to me talk about my feelings for him.

That was three months ago. They are still dating. A month into their relationship, he told me that he’d bottled up his emotions for me, and that he didn’t love her. I haven’t really spoken to him since. My heart still throbs when I think of him, and I haven’t been with anyone even a year after we broke up the first time. I feel as though I still feel for him with the pieces of my heart, which are picked away at every day.

He used to call me chouette. Now that is her name.


~ by linzy on December 16, 2008.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: