Always returning

Always returning

Some people have an allure to them, an absolute chemical and social attraction that draws in even the most strong willed of minds. He had a draw like that, and each time he came back to me, my life was ruined.

We dated for two years. He taught me to play chess and I showed him all the best spots to hang out. He read philosophy notes to me over the phone while I dozed off. I drew him pictures and left cute notes in his hoodie pockets while he saved up his allowances to take me to see plays and fairs. I was so in love, and he was so in love.

I was heartbroken when we separated for he first time, and my entire existence hurt in the way that only losing your first love can hurt. Everything I had done and ever will do was for him. I cried until my eyes burned from the lack of moisture and my movements were molasses. School was the hardest part of all. I can only thank my lucky stars that we didn’t go to the same one.

He came back. We giggled and talked and walked around as if nothing had ever happened. My heart floated and my eyes were bright and my smile not as crooked and my skin just a little bit softer. He was so, so handsome, with curly hair I ran my fingers through and a strut that made my heart flutter and my stomach explode with nervous tingles. It was just like when I fell for him the first time, only this time, we weren’t together. Just talking. Hanging out. Kissing and flirting but never being seen in public together, except once when the sun was down and I was pressed against the wall, his mouth on mine, and nobody could see how flushed my cheeks were.

And then right when I was better, and almost my own person again, he crushed me with a single sentence.

“I’m never going to make it official, because this time I just wanted to hurt you.”

And hurt me he did, and hurt others I did. I kisses, moaned, and fucked until I got sick of myself and left a trail of heartbreak behind me. I couldn’t understand why he hurt me, and I couldn’t understand why I was doing the same thing to everyone else. I failed school. Dropped out. Couldn’t land a job and couchsurfed until I could afford my own place.

And then he came back, three years later.

“I was a dick back then. I don’t know why I did that to you– you hadn’t done anything wrong. You were just a girl in love. Come on, let’s get a coffee.”

I got the coffee. Within hours, I was back to square one, and was just a girl in love. He bought me gifts and I cooked him dinner. He tutored me and helped me get my GED. I helped him get a proper job. He rubbed my back and drove me places while I made him mixed tapes and gushed about how much better things were. It lasted two years.

Then he left me. I screamed into my pillows and punched the walls until my knuckles bled. I couldn’t believe that he fucking did his to me again. I drank myself to the point where I was sick every single night and waking up still drunk. He said I was just like his father. I told him it was his fault, and he laughed at me.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re doing it to yourself. Just don’t drink anymore and get over me. It didn’t mean THAT much to you, did it?”

Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you.

Five years passed. It took me four years to get over what he had done and for my scorned heart to heal. I couldn’t trust anyone, especially anyone who said they wanted to be with me. Why date if they were just going to leave again? I ran out of control, getting fired and rehired and pierced and tattooed and into fights and wrecks before I was finally able to settle down with a good job, good friends, a sane girlfriend, a decent house, and a sweet little dog to care for.

I didn’t expect him to ever call or email me, much less to show up on my front door.

“Hey. I was just in town, and I wanted to know… do you wanna catch up? I know last time we talked, it wasn’t on good terms..”

I stared at him, and he stared at me. He looked the same as he did all those years ago, but his hair was short and he looked thin. I was different, though. I was smart. Not book smart like him, but street smart.

He cursed, words echoing off my front porch as my tattooed knuckles came in contact with his nose and blood began to flow from his nostrils.

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m not a stupid little girl you can jerk around anymore.”

I slammed the door in his face as he cursed some more, and locked the deadbolt.

He never came back into my life again.

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