Sometimes, I have to listen to love songs and apply them to something else. Anything else. The only romantic love I’ve known was teenage love. Which is fair, I think. I’m young. And it was genuine… He has a kid now, so God blocked the hell out of that. Amen? Amen.
But, yeah. I listen to love songs and apply them to something else. Anything else. I broke up with my high school boyfriend because I thought I was 32 when I was 16.
“Yeah. I have a lot going on… at home, I mean. I’m all over the place, and I don’t want to drag you into it. You don’t need to be caught up in that. You need to focus on graduating.”
After that, we kept in touch. We went to rival high schools, but my best friend went to his school and could answer any questions I asked. I just didn’t ask… I didn’t want to worry about him, and I didn’t want him to worry about me. I never want anyone to worry about me. To care? Yes. But worry? God… please… stop… no… what are you doing? I’m fine.
I am fine.
(I’m not). But I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be fine. You can check on me, though. Just not too much. Because then I’ll know that you’re worried. And I never want anyone to worry about me.
Teenage Love went to college. We met up during his school breaks. Then, I went to college. We still met up on breaks. And then I saw *her* on Instagram and didn’t want her to try to break my face because I had texted her boyfriend… only on breaks, though. I only texted him on breaks.
I still do a horrible job at letting people worry about me. Family. Friends. Mentors. Anyone. I’d rather check out and tiptoe into the background before you worry… and that’s ok. Until it’s not. Until your worry could have ended if I had just told you what was going on.
“No, if that’s your best friend, then you need to suck it up and allow your best friend to know you fully and give her the opportunity to support you in the way that best friends want to.”
But… but… no. One of my least favorite things in the world is seeing her cry. She was crying because she ripped her pretty yellow Easter dress, and I comforted her. I was about to tell her my name and that she looked really pretty. Then, she started crying. Her yellow Easter dress and white hair bows looked absolutely beautiful against her deep brown skin. Yellow would never look that good on me. Not a chance… I was about to tell her my name and that she looked really pretty. Then, she started crying. She was beautiful, she was sweet, and she was sad. So I comforted her. Then we became best friends. We were 5. I don’t want anyone crying over me. And she’s going to cry. *throws tantrum*