Story Time: Pride//

Chasing after him. Chasing, chasing, it was all I knew how to do.

If you could see his face, if you could stare into those eyes, you would know of my feelings. My deep infatuation.

My love.

Love that was ignored by the other, as he chased after another. I was pained, but I would never stop trying. I loved him, and that was all there was to it.

Do you really need a reason to love someone?

I did everything I could to capture his attention.

Ever since the first year of high school, I knew I was in love with him.

What I did not know, however, was that ever since the first year of high school, someone completely different knew they were in love with me.

Tall, independent, silent, he was on his own most of the time. He would talk to me whenever the chance was given, whether it was a light conversation or a simple greeting, followed by a simple closing.

We became friends, and we would spend our time together, even with others sometime.

The only other companion he seemed to have was a small, energetic girl.

Another year passed, the second year of high school coming upon us. I continued to chase after him, and, in return, he continued to chase after me.

But, the moment I saw him kiss her, the moment I saw that my chance was gone, the moment my friend whisked away my dream, I crumbled. I couldn’t escape the depths of despair, I was trapped, encased in darkness. The suffering wouldn’t end— And it hurt— I was in horrible, unimaginable pain.

Worthless, pathetic, undeserving, the words described me far too well, and I couldn’t take it.

Which is why I was shocked when someone came to pull me out.

When someone came to save my life. So quickly he arrived, and so quickly he left. Everyday, for weeks, he would come to the room I called home, he would comfort me, he would restore meaning to my life.

So much so that we became far more close than just friends. 

Which is why it had to end.

Every time I kissed him, every time I pleaded with him to stay, every time I lay beside him, I was thinking of the other guy i'm chasing. It tortured me, it tortured me to the point where I realized it had to end.

I couldn’t use him for my own selfish needs any longer.

And as quickly as he came into my life, he just as quickly faded from it. I told him as quietly, as carefully as possible, that I could not do it. That I could not take it, that I was only going to hurt both of us. That I was too enveloped in to the other guy to be deserving enough of his affection.

He stared at me for a moment, and I could swear that in his eyes, something shattered. Something broke, something was crushed, clouds covered brightness.

But, even so, he smiled.

He smiled and placed two fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face up, and with a small kiss to my forehead, he spoke the soft words,

“I am so proud of you.”  

I didn’t see him much after that.

Life continued onward, and I continued to pray that somehow, he would be available, that somehow, he could soon be mine.

Every now and then, I would look for him, to see what he was up to. But nothing worked, and finally, I decided to try and forget.

I could not forget.

It became the opposite— Convinced I was in love with him, yet he was in the back of my mind, torturing me as he once had.

I would lie in bed, wondering what would have happened if I tried harder to dedicate myself, wondering what would have happened if I didn’t let him go so easily, wondering what would have happened if I didn’t leave him loveless for my own needs.

Third year of high school.

I would try to approach a certain, familiar, small girl several times, asking what happened— Why I could seem to never find the man she called her best friend.

She would give me a sorrowful look, before tears would stream down her face, and she would turn away from me, crying to herself as she left me in the dust. I worried, I worried endlessly about what happened.

But, nonetheless, I continued to chase after the boy of my dreams for the rest of high school.

Final year of high school.

Graduation day.

The room was bustling, full of happy people, crying and laughing, hugging and kissing, congratulating each other.

I was alone, and I watched with sorrow, as the boy I had been chasing for four full years admired his brown-haired girlfriend, whom was so blessed to have her.

I couldn’t take the sight, and turning, I went to exit the room.

That was when I ran into someone, and I looked up to apologize.

He looked like he aged far more than two years— It was unbelievable. He was like a full-grown adult, and I felt puny in his presence. How much he aged was unnatural, and it almost frightened me. 

Looking down, I could feel tears in my eyes. I hadn’t seen him for two years, I hadn’t heard from him in two years, and I still wondered if he was shattered like he was the last night I saw him, when I heard the last words he spoke to me that night, two years ago.

I fumbled for words, I wanted to scream at myself, I wanted to beg him for forgiveness and I wanted to tell him how much pain I held in my heart.

The only words I could manage were,

“I’m sorry.”

I must’ve sounded like an idiot, like a fool, lost in the reality of pain and heartbreak. 

But, even so, he smiled.

He smiled and placed two fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face up, and with a small kiss to my forehead, he spoke the soft words,

“I am so proud of you.”

I did not see him after graduation.

He walked away after that, and I could not find the words to protest.

Those were the last words, for the second time, that I could hear him say.

So much time passed after that last day.

I had soon entered college, and I wondered if he did the same.

He was always so intelligent.

It was two years after that day, however, that I lost it. I had to find him. I couldn’t keep the horrible pain forever.

Desperate to get in contact with him, I went to the only person whom would know where he disappeared to.

I drove, miles and miles, until I parked in a gravel driveway, exiting the vehicle and walking to her door.

I knocked, and soon enough, she opened the door, looking at me in surprise. I asked her the burning question.

She looked down, as if hurt, and with tears in her eyes, she went to close the door.

I stopped her, begging, pleading for her to tell me. I had to apologize, I had to set things right, I had to find him. Finally, after a long period of silence, he nodded grimly.

Taking the car keys from my hand, she got into the driver’s seat of my car, and told her that she would take me to him.

I was overjoyed, my heart rapidly beat within my chest, and I truly believed that I could see him, that maybe I could set myself right and be happy.

We drove for a long time, and even if it would cost me to refill my gas tank, I didn’t care.

The price was worth it to see him again. I didn’t know where we were anymore, eventually, and we kept driving, down dirt roads, and finally, to a dead end.

Something was horribly wrong here, I knew, knowing that there was no buildings nearby. Even so, i followed as she got out of the car, leasing me silently past thickest and trees, past lush nature and beautiful sights.

Finally, we arrived at our destination.

There were so many people, I was shocked at the sight.

I didn’t expect him to have company.

The girl in front of me wept as she continued to lead me, until she finally stopped, and stepped aside, allowing me to get a good glimpse at what he had become.

A beautifully decorated and carved statue, a stone marking his final place of rest, alongside so many other people. I was on my knees at last, reading the print in the stone over and over as the girl besides me told me everything she had been hiding for four years.

About how he was diagnosed with the incurable illness, about how each day that he was out of school and in the isolated hospital room rather than the classroom.

About how his life was sapped away from him as the years passed.

About how he demanded to be taken to school on the final day, Graduation, to see someone very important, to see someone very dear to him.

To tell that person how proud he was of her.

That person was named Malia.

That person was me.

Five years ago, I fell in love with Stiles, a guy who would someday marry Lydia, and would never be with me, while meanwhile, someone else fell in love with me, myself, who would someday be at his very grave. 

Four years ago, Ezekiel was informed that he would not live a full life.

Three years ago, Amelia lost her bright attitude, and would never be the same.

Two years ago, I heard the last words I would ever hear from the man who saved me.

One year ago, I was in horrible pain from not being with him, wishing that I never told him to leave, wishing that I could have him.

Now, I am at the grave of the man I am truly, madly, deeply in love with.

I am crying, weeping, I am loveless and I cannot find myself. 

But, even so, I smiled.

I smiled and placed two fingers beneath my chin, lifting my face up, and imagining that I was being given a small kiss to my forehead, I spoke the soft words,

“I am so proud of you." 

- N xx