Not A Love Story.

I loved him, that much I knew. But it was never my place to do so, he was never mine, I was never his, nor were we ever anything. This knowledge did not prevent it from occurring, instead false hope seduced me into a trance that I was unable to resist. There was this aura around him that enticed me through the years, even when I was committed to someone else. I didn’t posses love for him yet, but I would after I ended my previous relationship. But this isn’t a love story, not in any shape or form. For how could love exist if it was only imagined? At the same time, how could it be imagined if I knew it was real, and became so hard to over come? But once again, this is not a love story.

There was nothing in particular about him that made him stand out, he was quiet at first, and I suppose that is what lured me in. My school was so full of the opposite that someone like him was quite refreshing; we talked and became acquaintances, but nothing more. We didn’t really become friends until junior year and became extremely close in senior year. I am avoiding details because the peculiarities about how I fell for him are non-essential. Senior year we began to become extremely close; but senior year we became strangers as well.

In between the years, his mold began to break and he allowed the chisel to be held by another person. Others began to pursue him and he became extremely well-known, while I constantly remained in the side lines. However, it was during this time that I began to observe things that were concerning. It wasn’t until the end of Senior year that it became completely revealed that he was not the person I once knew. He was desperate to fit in, to please others, to preserve an image that did not even belong to him. This consumed him, but for a moment in time, I thought that I would be able to play the role as well. I thought that there was a chance of me being the girl that would suit him. But I slowly started to see that this wasn’t so; how could I belong to someone who didn’t even belong to themselves? You would think that this epiphany would allow me to move on, but I continued to stay, despite the hurt I received; I stayed because I hoped that I would be able to return him back to himself…

But the problem was that this was himself.

He just wasn’t the him that I wanted him to be, this was the person that he was all along that I chose not to see. When we were alone he reverted back to himself (or how I knew him), but when we were in school, he morphed into this stranger. A stranger who had no second thoughts in putting me down and making me appear foolish. The stranger who disregarded everything that I had done for him; the stranger who knew all my embarrassing secrets and thoughts and disregarded those as well. He turned out to be like everyone else, and that is why I felt so foolish and became so desperate to make him return back to normal.

He was my friend and then screwed me over just as I told him every other friend had done; and this is why it pained me so. I made myself vulnerable and revealed just how pathetic I was and felt, and he took that information, and dismissed it. He would tell me how he was pressured to act the way he did, but I cannot blame anyone else for who he really is.

I always saw traces of it, but paid no mind because I didn’t want it to be true. The reality is that people do not change. We always hear “oh, you changed bro,” or some statement along those lines, but did those people ever really change? In elementary and middle school, we are open to change because we are still being molded, but by the time we reach the end of high school and onto adulthood, we are simply defining who we are. The two are different; defining who you are means that the traces of your identity are already present; you are merely solidifying it. And the people that claim that a change has taken place have not taken notice of the progress until it has become increasingly apparent.

I thought I loved him, but I probably didn’t because I never knew him. I loved him for the person I thought he was, not the person he was. It is unfortunate that he allowed others to create his identity, but maybe one day he will define himself instead of hiding it from the public.
I may sound knowledgeable, but spells are hard to break. Hope always approaches. But this isn’t a love story, nor is there a happy ending.

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