My F***ed Up Love Life/ Ten Minutes of Dry Heaving and Ugly Crying

As you can probably tell from the above title this is not a happy post. I’m about to let you in a part of my life and my soul that I NEVER as a rule, nay, a LAW share. Ever. At all. I have a problem with putting up walls. (problem, strength, make of it what you will based on personal philosophy) I never let people in, because I have a pathological fear that if I do, they might reject me because of it. I put up a tough facade, a dark armor that keeps people out as well as keeping myself in. There are many perks to this, WAY too many for my own good. You aren’t hurt by anything, people can’t use anything against you, it keeps emotions separate from reason (HUGE perk, emotions are messy and gross and bleck) , and it’s just so much easier. But recently, I’ve started feeling the repercussions of such an armor. When you let no one in, you push then away. Its easy, but it’s lonely, and it makes it harder to DO anything about being lonely. One of the main reasons that I push people away like this is because I don’t know HOW to deal with emotions. Emotions are illogical, messy, and they just make me uncomfortable. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some emotionless
robot, I feel emotions, they hit me HARD. I just don’t know how to deal with them. Its easier to just avoid dealing with anything. I’ve been trying to let my walls down, but every time I come close to letting my true colors show, someone takes advantage of it. My story begins with a boy. The last person I was able to successfully open up to. I’m sharing this, because I’ve come to realise that this is one of the roots of my problems. The boy (man now) in question is aware of this blog, and I hope that he can read this. Its not enough to admit this to myself, I need him to know. I need this out so that hopefully the rest of my walls come tumbling down. So here we go. Throughout this story I’ll refer to him as Sparx (inside joke, I’m cracking up over here).

Experts say that the average crush lasts around six months. Any longer than that and you’re already in love. Well doesn’t that really suck. What would they call five years? Let that sink in. I’ve had an infatuation with the SAME man for five years, and I’m only 15. I’ve known Sparx for eight years. We’ve practically grown up together. He’s been my best friend since we met. Except, to me, that was never all we were. I’ve had this fantasy of how our lives would go. We would be childhood best friends, him and I. After high school we would run off to New York and get a cheap place in Bushwick, scare away criminals by going outside and screaming at the sky to make them think we were crazy. We would go to college together, he would put up with the loud, wild, crazy sex I would be having in the other room, and I would be his shoulder to cry on through all his relationship woes. Then, one day, he would look up and realise that love was here all along. Corny? Maybe. Sappy? Absolutely. Cliche? A little. Unrealistic? Yes. An absolute dream come true? You bet your ass it is. Now it’s no secret that I like Sparx in our group of friends. I think it’s always been a bit of a joke to them. He’s always kind of laughed it off. He either never really thought I was serious, maybe I was joking. Or, he laughed to cover up that it made him uncomfortable. Either way, I don’t think anyone really grasped how deep these feelings ran. I do not hesitate to say that I whole heartedly believe that I am in love with Sparx. I know what your thinking, I’m 15, I’m too young, how would I know. Screw you. If you’re that bothered by it then get the hell out of my blog. Anyway. Emotional time. I’m not talking about the stupid teenager I wuv wou love that runs rampant in the halls of today’s high schools. I’m above that, I’m not stupid enough to believe that that kind of love is worth anything. I’m also not talking about hormone fueled lust either. Don’t get me wrong, there is a sexual component, but that’s not the point. I’m talking about real love. Enduring. Adult love. I thought I was over him for a really long time, about two years. I thought I was able to accept that I would only ever be just friends with him. But it didn’t work like that. When I met Sparx, he was one of the single greatest people I had ever met. He understood me. All my quirks and idiosyncrasies were accepted. He didn’t try to change them, but even better, he spotted me. He told me when I was being unreasonable or, to use a clinical term, bitchy. He smoothed out my rough edges and made me a better person. And even better is that he CARED enough about me to do that. I had never had someone who cared about me as much as Sparx did, enough to accept me, yet fix me at the same time. I’m still a bit of a broken toy now, but without Sparx there’s no telling what could have happened to me. After I realised that, that he wasn’t trying to change me or convert me, that he was trying to help me, that was when I first fell for him. When I came out, he was a saint about it. While everyone else just kind of joked about it, he never treated me differently in even the slightest regard. He was more than tolerant and aware, he was CARING. He was there for me. While it wasn’t entirely a smooth journey (We once had a fight when he one said come on Angus, we all know that you’re only gay for the attention) he was always there. After a while, we sort of drifted apart. Our social circle got bigger. Everyone would rather be friends with the outgoing nice guy rather than the dark and twisty gay. We were pulled apart, but he was always present in my life. This is around the time when I began to question my feelings for him. I told myself that what I felt was just a crush. I was too young to experience anything like that yet. This desperate craving for his attention was just a phase. The constant vigilance that I needed to keep in place to keep myself from spewing I love you after every phone conversation would soon be unneeded. Then, a couple of weeks ago, we got into a HUGE blow out fight. We didn’t speak to each other for almost a month (the longest we had ever abstained from speaking).  When it was over we had this heart to heart where we talked about how we needed each other and how he worried about me. Afterwards I was left with the same whimsical feeling of euphoria from talking to him. Then, when I realized what had just happened, I actually yelled DAMN IT to the wind. Every tiny, unrequited feeling I had ever had came rushing back with a vengeance. This feud had a whole new purpose now. The next day I dragged up every feeling of anger and resentment I had (believe me, that’s a lot of hatred) and directed it at him. If I couldn’t have him, I would hate him because of it. I hoped to spark a new wave of infighting and destroy our friendship completely. See, this is where the cold, emotional detachment comes into play. I had never felt the need to put up barriers with Sparx before I had to fall for him. Now I needed to use them to end these feelings. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to tear away from him. Since then, I’ve done everything I can to get over him. I even started a trial relationship with one of my friends, not that it ever got off the ground. I managed to convince myself that I was simply extremely lonely. I’ve scoured the internet and debate tournaments to meet guys who may actually be interested in me. But when I close my eyes and ask myself who I want to spend my life with, I can only see him. When I envision my perfect man, I only see his face. Every day, every hour, I think of him, I miss him, I love him still. He is the last thing I think of at night and the first thing I think of in the morning. And in between, he is in my dreams. When my phone buzzes with his personalized text alert, I rush to answer no matter what. I can’t stand to keep this on anymore. I want to get this out so I can hopefully move on, but this one dragging part of me is holding out hope that him reading this will finally make him fall for me. It says that even though he never officially came out it’s been no secret that he likes men and women. He recently told me that he was pan romantic. I need to get past this, but until I do, I think I’ll always have that voice calling for him, longing for him. I’m not here to make you feel sorry for me. I’m not here to make you fall for me. But this needs to be known, Sparx. I’m sorry. You know that’s not easy for me to say, and you know that stuff like this scares the hell out of me

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