our hearts beat for africa

January 2010*

Thinking back to December 2010 still feels like kicking an old bruise. It still hurts to write about it. I'll eventually explain the events that lead up to this, but for now, here is the aftermath. This is actually my first journal entry about you. Everything that happened before this, I've written down as I've remembered it. This is my original entry, "I regret all the pressure I put on you and on myself. I want so badly to be a part of someone's life, that I often overlook the fact that they haven't asked me to be in theirs. When I rewind in my mind all the things you said, and all the times you looked at me, I know that I just heard what I wanted to hear, and saw what I wanted to see. You were and always would be four years younger than me. I'm disgusted with myself for thinking of you as more than a friend. You've made me feel crazy from the very beginning, and I don't think it was in a good way. You always talked in riddles and I would walk away from our conversations feeling even more confused. I was constantly trying to read between your lines, sometimes I thought I understood, other times I thought I was only hearing what I wanted to hear. How could I have misread everything? You gave me no reassurance or clarity in any way. It was selfish of you, it was like you couldn't, or didn't want to commit to anything, so you kept me waiting in the dark. You always knew how to keep me holding on just enough, it was everything your eyes would say, and how it seemed like you always had to touch my hair.

Every time that I get to know a boy, and I start to let myself think that there could be something between us, my mind does this weird thing, it says, this situation is so far from anything I could have ever imagined, it's so complex that it must have been orchestrated by God. My heart has always seemed to beat for Africa, and winding up in my mostly Sudanese church and meeting you, it all seemed to make so much sense. You wanted to live in Africa, you loved God, and you thought I was funny. It seemed too good to be true. I don't believe in coincidences, I think everything happens for a reason. I always want to assume that God is behind everything, but most times it's me trying to pull my own strings for my life. You don't know that it started this way, but everything started one night you were over, our friend from church was there too (the one you had an almost thing with.) We were all crowded around photobooth, trying on our halloween wigs, my roommate and our friend went in the other room, it was just you and me. You pulled me onto that tiny chair with you and we started taking pictures together. We took a few and were looking them over. You pointed one of them out to me, then you turned, looked me right in the eyes and said, "I look so content in this picture." I'm not sure if it was how you said it, or how you looked at me, but your words stuck with me in a way that was surprising and almost annoying.

There are few males in my life that look at me like I'm just any other girl, they don't see me as a the girl with the disability. They just treat me like I'm any other girl. There is no pity in their voice when they talk to me, and they aren't scared of hurting my feelings. This sounds like something a girl wouldn't want, but it was rare for a boy to treat me this way, I always feel so flattered when I'm perceived this way. You treated me this way from day one.

Needless to say, when my roommate went to bed that night, I spent a good half hour pouring over those six pictures of us, squinting, and hoping to see the answer to a question I was too scared to ask. That's how we started, sometimes I wish it had stopped there, that I hadn't pushed the way I always do."

 

swing away pt. 2

*Still November 2010

Swing dancing, it was all I could think about. I wanted to be that close to you again, and that was the only way I could do it. I was always living for Thursday nights. You were almost done with your fall semester, so you had a lot of work to do. It meant that you couldn't come dancing for a few weeks. On the nights you weren't there, I would text you the whole time as I was watching from the sidelines. When you finally came back, I was so excited, I tried to be patient and wait for you to ask me to dance again, but you didn't. Every time you would sit down for a rest, you would tease me about stealing my scarf, or say something flirty, at one point, you even grabbed my hand for some reason. I don't remember what we were talking about, but you held it for a second and traced the lines on it. I wanted you to keep it, but eventually you let go.

I was so giddy, but tried to hide it. Once again, I had to initiate our dance. I was bolder this time and immediately stepped close to you, like we had before, but this time you were more cautious. This time you were the one to put more space in between us. You said I was too close to you. I was so confused. You were so much closer a few weeks earlier when my mom was there. I wanted to ask you why, it was killing me. I stuttered, but finally got it out. You said you were scared you might do something bad. It just didn't make sense to me. What does that mean? What could possibly be bad? Did you want to stomp on my feet? It couldn't be anything like hitting on me, my mom had been there last week, this would have been your opportunity to actually dance close to me, or hit on me if you wanted to. "I don't want to do something bad." Those words left me perplexed for weeks. You picked up swing dancing faster in two weeks than our friends did in four. You danced with my roommate the whole night, she was one of the only girls you knew. I was jealous? No, that's not really a question. I wanted to mean the most to you. I couldn't help it. It was so ugly of me, how could I feel that way about my best friend? You were probably just another boy. When I got home that night, my roommate and I were trying to figure out what, "do something bad meant." I was holding my little dog, I said, "You're a boy, what was he talking about?" I then proceeded to hold him as close as I did with you during our slow dance. My dog licked my face. My roommate and I laughed till we fell over.

At the end of the month you got weird. You told me that you needed some time, you said it all cryptic and confusing. I wasn't sure what you were actually saying, but what I took away from it, was that you needed some time away from girls, that you needed to figure some things out. I couldn't help but think you were talking about me. Was I getting to close? Did you realize how much I cared about you, and that you didn't reciprocate my feelings? It made me so upset. You told me you couldn't accept rides from me anymore. I was so sad because it was the one time we were alone, when we really got to talk. Those were the times that meant the most to me, you would tell me you had to go as reached for the door, but we always ended up parked in front of your dorm for at least another hour. We would laugh so hard about the weirdest things, and then there were the times when we were so serious and honest that it hurt. It was such a raw feeling to be like that with someone. Nothing physical, just talking. I started to get frustrated with you. I wanted to know how much I meant to you, to feel like I wasn't crazy for thinking that we had something, that you weren't like this with everyone. Christmas was so close, I was getting so excited. The snow reminded me of everything I wanted every year. To be with someone who loved me, to buy those matching reindeer sweaters, to walk hand in hand through the lit city streets late at night, in my bright red coat. I know it's a lot to ask, but a girl can dream.

what we deserve

*November 2010 

This whole month is one big happy blur. I'm trying my best to remember the order of things. All I'm certain of, is that I wanted to see you all the time, that you made me so happy. One Sunday at church we were talking in the corner, there was this big, leafy plant in between us. I probably kept touching it because I was nervous, so you started talking about it, how it reminded you of a plant from Africa. You looked at me for half a second and I felt something, it was something new, it happened so fast, I thought I imagined it, but I couldn't help but mention it to my roommate on our way home. She laughed at me like I was ridiculous. I felt so stupid for even bringing it up. I was a little mad too, why would it be so unbelievable for him to like me? This is the part that I wish I could forget. The part that I regret, the part the shows who I really am, and it makes me ask the question, "If I could do it all over again, would I do it differently?" I saw a quote this week that reminded me of how as humans, we think ugly thoughts, and do ugly things, and when we do these things we want to quickly brush these feelings under the rug. As Christians, sometimes we're too scared to admit that we're capable of feeling this way, like were somehow better than others, that we don't have these moments just like everyone else. 

"I discovered something which I had never confronted before, that there were immense forces of darkness and hatred within my own heart. At particular moments of fatigue or stress, I saw forces of hate rising up inside me, and the capacity to hurt someone who was weak and was provoking me! That, I think, was what caused me the most pain: to discover who I really am, and to realize that maybe I did not want to know who I really was! I did not want to admit all the garbage inside me. And then I had to decide whether I would just continue to pretend that I was okay and throw myself into hyperactivity, projects where I could forget all the garbage and prove to others how good I was." 
- Jean Vanier

I started to realize something that I knew along, but wanted to ignore from that first day my roommate saw me in your baseball hat. It was the reason for her silence on this topic, her almost exasperation when I brought up this topic. Did she like you too? How could I feel right about things, about us, if I knew she had feelings for you too? Couldn't I just keep things the way they were and hope I was wrong about her? It was so subtle, her always ignoring this issue, no one else wouldn't have noticed, but it was more about what she didn't say than what she did say. She was always one to talk things out with someone if she knew they were dealing with something, to give her genuine opinion on things. That's how she always was, giving in every way. I started to think about everything differently. She deserved him more than me. I felt foolish worrying about all of these things without knowing how you actually felt.

We were out shopping one night, I was selfishly talking about you again, how you were young, how it freaked me out, but how your life experiences added on a few extra years. That's how I was justifying it all. She was weird again, not giving me real answers, so I outright asked her, I had to. I remember staring at an ugly sweater for way too long, because I couldn't look her in the eyes. She couldn't answer me. She just kept saying you were so young, that she didn't think she liked you. It wasn't very convincing. I was devastated, and didn't know what to do with this new information. Nothing felt right. How could I keep up my relationship with you and her at the same time? I had to choose? 

I tried to pretend I was a guy, I put my roommate and I side by side and tried to think objectively about it all. It didn't take me very long to decided who was the better choice. I don't think I have low self esteem, but I realize how it's going to sound like it in a second. You just have to understand how amazing my roommate is. It's more than her knowing she's amazing, it's that she actually is, and doesn't know, or acknowledge the fact that she is. She's gorgeous, she can cook, sew, give great advice, she's quick to laugh, and the most loyal of friends. If it came right down to it, I didn't stand a chance against her. I'm cynical, I'm only good at making chicken noodle soup, I pretend I can sew (Confessional #8 every Christmas my roommate and I make homemade gifts for family and friends. It usually requires sewing. I start off with every intention of sewing these crafts, but I get frustrated and my roommate finishes them for me and doesn't want the credit for it.) I'm too sarcastic most days, and I laugh like a heyena. My heart started to ache over you, over both of these friendships. I didn't want to have to prove that I was a good person by giving you up, but at the same time, I couldn't accept that I was a monster who would pick a boy she was just getting to know this year, over her best friend. I didn't want to be that girl. If only I was better at sewing those Christmas purses, if only I had a better heart, maybe then I would deserve you...

swing away

*November 2010

Back to us, back to you. My mind always goes back to those Thursday nights when we would get dressed up and go downtown swing dancing in that huge ballroom. When I say we, I mean my friends would dance, and I would watch. I felt so bad when men would come up to me and ask me to dance. I felt like a huge jerk saying no, I don't think they ever really believed me that I couldn't do it. The hardwood floors, the low lighting, and the wall of mirrors were so beautiful. I haven't been back since last November. I loved people watching and my friends attempting to be coordinated. I mostly went because of you. I don't know how it all started, I think it was this one comment you randomly made to me one night. You said, "I'm going to slow dance with you in the snow." I don't remember the context, but I sure do remember that part, because I thought it was the nicest thing that any boy had ever said to me. I didn't know boys thought about stuff like that too. So in the back of my mind, I wanted my slow dance with you, and I spent a week watching you learn the steps with my roommate, and hoping you would you would ask me by the end of the night.

One of my closest friend was over for lunch some time in this month. She was the only person who I felt was unbiased about the whole situation. She didn't go to our church and had only met you once. I had confessed to her that I felt something for you, that I didn't know what it was, I just knew I felt it so strongly. She asked me if I had a crush on you, I immediately replied, "No, I think I would go right to loving him. It would be so easy to do it I let myself." My answer came so naturally. It terrified me that I could identify it so quickly. She told me it sounded messy. I could tell she thought it was a terrible idea.

I think it would be safe to say that at this point our relationship was complicated. Even though neither of us would admit it, our feelings were stronger than anyone else knew. We had these intense moments together in my car after an event at church. I would drop you off and what seemed like minutes would turn into hours, and before I knew it we were both going back and forth, challenging each other about serious things. You were full of riddles, your mind was always going, I could see it even when we weren't having our conversations. I can't even fully describe our conversations. They were so passionate and heated, half of the time I didn't even know what we were talking about, but I could see that you were hiding a lot and I wanted you to be free of those things. I knew there was something huge there, something from your past that was ruling your thoughts and actions, something that you couldn't face. You were always hinting to me that you were a bad person, that if people knew the real you, they wouldn't ever speak to you again. I felt so strongly against this, I knew that what I felt for you would trump anything you could ever tell me.

I remember almost shedding a tear out of anger when you told me that sometimes you just wanted to disappear and stop trying. I suddenly broke the rule where we talk about everything but us. I said, "you cannot do that to me." It was the first time I acknowledged how much you meant to me. I tried to make you promise me that you wouldn't disappear, but you wouldn't do it. I remember trying to tell you exactly how I felt about you with my eyes, because my mouth wouldn't do it. I swore that you loved me, yet at times, it almost seemed like I repulsed you. You wouldn't ever touch me, or be alone with me. I remember walking into church with you in the middle of the winter, I would almost be slipping on ice, and you wouldn't offer me your arm, yet there would be times when you would just impulsively reach out and play with my hair or closely examine my necklace for just a little bit too long. Both of these things were so intimate. You would always do these things when no one was looking, and it would confuse me so much.

One particular Thursday night you came with us swing dancing. My mom and youngest sister were there that night. I was so excited for you to be around them for the first time. I had been talking about you to them a lots. You sat by me, we talked a lot. I finally got sick of waiting for you to ask me to dance, so I finally asked you about it. You hesitated, but offered me your hand, I took it. We walked off into a corner, You pulled me so close that I started to freak out, my eyes got huge, I pushed you away, putting more space between us. I told you I had never been that close to boy before. This was true, I didn't know what to do being in such close proximity to you, I just started twitching lots. It was hilarious how my awkwardness never seemed to bother you. You just ignored it and smiled at me. Anyone else would've been mortified. I started mumbling to fill in the silences. You couldn't hear what I said, but I pretended that what you thought I said was correct. I couldn't speak. You told me I could dance on your feet, so I did. We probably looked like middle schoolers, but I didn't care. As far as I was concern, there was no one else in the room that night. The song that was playing, wasn't even slow, I didn't care. Our song ended, it was time to go home.

Everyone put their coats on and walked out the door. I kept waiting for one of my friends, or my sister to whisper something to me about our intense dance, but no one did. I felt like we were always having these really intensely intimate moments, but they went unnoticed by everyone except us. I was scared that I was making them up in my mind, that these moments only meant something to me. I wanted someone else to point them out for me, for someone to say that I wasn't crazy. You and I would never address these moments, we acted like they never even happened. To acknowledge them would be to admit that they were real, and that something needed to be done. I guess it was easier for both of us to exist in a world of what ifs. I was also too scared to ask, I couldn't bear to find out that indeed, I had imagined everything, and that you were just another boy that meant too much to me.

splinters & sidewalks

I can't wrap up these posts about the most influential men in my life without addressing my number one influence, my dad. I know it seems like an overused and cliche`ed excuse that girls always seem to use when they want to blame someone for their bad relationships decisions, but it's true, when a dad isn't there to fulfill that role, bad things happen. There is this huge void that we are constantly trying to fill. I wanted that attention from males, but I didn't know how to obtain it in a healthy way. I saw my sister's struggle with this too. I know that we're ultimately responsible for every decision we make, but coming from a fatherless home almost sets a girl up to have a harder time dealing with the male gender. To this day I still do not know how to act around men. They make me uncomfortable. I cannot relate to them and I don't know how to treat them.

I love my dad, I really do. He calls about once a week. He's proud of us girls and everything we have accomplished. He comes to every play and piano recital because he really wants to be there, but it's still not enough. It's the in between times that really matter, the times when I'm really struggling with something and I show my true colors. Love me then, that's when it really matters. You shouldn't be able to only witness the times we shine, strangers get to witness those too. You weren't there to see the progression of all our hard work, the tears, the tantrums, and everything it took to get to that moment. I wish you only being there on our important days was enough, but at the end of the day, I just want us to all drive away together in the same car and sleep under the same roof. I miss our dinners together, not the ones toward the end, those were filled with screaming silences and anger on both of our sides.

I don't know when it happened, but one day it turned into Dad vs. Us. It should have never been like that. I missed the dinners in that tiny kitchen in our old house near the thruway. Those were filled with excitement and warmth. There was always a buzz in the air as soon as you would get home from work and joined us. We were all so happy, then you thought you had to build us a dream house. You put too much pressure on yourself Dad. I was already so impressed with you. I hated it when you would be gone for hours working on it, I just wanted you home with us. I do remember how proud you were when you showed us the skeleton of our new house. You built our new house in the middle of nowhere, far off the road. I was excited about our new life. You showed us where all of the rooms would be, it was hard for me to imagine everything being finished and really living there. You wanted us to have everything, you put everything into that house, you worked so hard.

Life always seems so ironic, sometimes the dreams we're chasing lead us to these empty alleys where we said we would never go. People never intend to do bad things, it's that one moment of justification that takes place, when you decide to let your guard down and tell yourself it's just once, nothing will happen. Before you know it, you're drowning in regrets, and lies to cover up your lies. To this day, no one really knows when it happened, or how you met her. Suddenly everything made sense. You were distancing yourself from us, you couldn't live both lives, I don't know how you did it for so long. Maybe you had to divide yourself into three different people, the one who went through the motions at church where you ran the kids program and played the organ, who you were at home, always pretending we weren't there, blocking us out, or always yelling, and who you were with her. I'm sure you felt like she was your escape from everything.

You left before you could finish the house, it was years before my mom could afford to buy carpeting. That rough plywood left splinters in our feet, we didn't have a railing up the stairs, our closets were these huge empty spaces in the wall. They were useless. It was like you slowly gave up on us and having that life you dreamed of. When it comes right down to it, I still blame you, I counted on you to be there, to protect us. Up until that point, I didn't realize you were even capable of making mistakes, let alone ones that huge. I always find myself wishing for those Christmas' when we lived in that tiny house by the thruway, some of us were three to a room, and scary people would knock on our door at all hours of the night, but we were happy, and I felt safe because you were there with us, and everything was genuinely felt.

Our house felt too big after you left. I missed the sound of you coming upstairs, I always knew it was you from the way you would tap all of your fingers along the wall as you came up. After you were gone, I felt like it was my duty to stay up all night and protect the house from any intruders. I would lie awake for hours, with my ears on high alert. I remember being too terrified to yell out to my mom when I actually did hear something. I'm sure most of the sounds were made up in my head. I hated my new role, but I was more worried about my mom and sisters, we weren't ready to be alone.

When I was home for thanksgiving this year, I was laying in bed, battling my thoughts, when I remembered back to when they were pouring the cement for our back sidewalk. Someone had the idea of leaving our hand prints in the wet cement. I had forgotten all about them. The next day I went in my backyard and tried to find them, I had to wrestle with a hose and I muddied my shoes, but there they were, buried under a million leaves, all forgotten and forlorn. Sometimes it's so hard to remember my dad ever being in our house, but the proof is there, it's in the pavement.

leave

September 25, 2009*

I’m cold and tired. I’ve slept for hours and there are socks on my feet and warm sleeves on my arms. I’ve learned so much and so little all at once. I’m still afraid, but somehow less scared about being afraid. I’m an oxymoron just waiting to be challenged. I feel defeated and careless, but more guarded than ever. I don’t think I could contradict myself anymore than I already do.

I keep waiting around. My whole life feels like one big waiting game.
I love, I mess up, I try to fix it, I repeat my same mistakes, thinking that maybe, this time I’ll get it right. I like to think that it’s everyone else who is wrong, but it’s always me. They say that life is only 10% of what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it. I have terrible reactions. I’m missing the piece of me that makes me think that I’m worth it. I’ve tried so many times to make You my everything and it’s like I can’t be happy, not yet. I feel like I have to be everything or nothing at all. There is no middle ground.

Seeing the seasons change reminds me of how far off I am from where I want to be. It marks another stretch of time that I’ve wasted and taken advantage of. It’s beautiful and new and I’m the same as I’ve always been. I have nothing to offer it in return for its beauty. I could enjoy it for what it is, but I would rather it serve as a reminder to me that I should try harder and keep my patience in tact. So I will let the fall taunt me into submission as another year passes just out of my reach.

Don’t worry, I’ll keep reaching and maybe someday I’ll reach and You will be closer. Or maybe I’ll reach and You will give me someone here on earth to love.

what a waste of a heart

Same trip, same month.

What if we stop having a ball?
What if the paint chips from the wall?
What if there's always cups in the sink?

What if I'm not what you think I am?
What if I fall further than you?
What if you dream of somebody new?

- Ingrid Michaelson

Part 4.
Another song that I still relate to J, it seemed to illustrate every fear I had about meeting him. We met up with J at this random spot right off the highway. It was an abandoned gas station. I felt like we were all going to end up on a dateline special. I questioned everything I knew about him. Here I was putting everyone's life at risk, they had no choice, but to trust that I had good judgment in someone I met online. We got to the appointed spot before him. I was so mad, we had come all this way, just like he wanted and he wasn't even there to meet us. The suspense was killing me. You know how sometimes you want something so bad, that it seems like it will never happen? Like the universe is playing a terrible trick on you, like you'll get so close to it, but never actually get what you want. It's like that moment when you're in the passenger seat of a car and you something up ahead catches your eye and you're so intrigued that you sit up a little bit straighter and squint your eyes to see a little better as you approach, but just as you do, a car comes along side you, blocking your view, and keeps up just long enough for you to miss out on what you were dying to see. That's how I felt about J from day 1, till that moment when he pulled up in his town car. Every picture that was tagged or posted of J online was so weird, his hand would be up across his whole face, or there would be a huge piece of furniture blocking his body. My friends and I would laugh about it, he was the mystery body and face, but what right did I have to judge him about these things when I was the one with a disability? I felt like we had too much of a foundation built for any of this to matter.

He finally pulled up in that granny town car of his, and immediately covering his face with his left hand. I laughed so hard, thinking to myself, "he would." We were all giggly, it almost felt like we were doing something wrong. I didn't usually meet guys in real life that I met online. My sister immediately said that I would ride back to his house with him. I was mortified, I'm not sure why, he knew more about me than most people, it was just so overwhelming. The reality of it all was hitting me. My roommate was such a good best friend and immediately offered to ride with me. I got out of the car and climbed in the front seat. They were leather. I kept sliding off and trying not to stare at him. He was exactly what I imagined, no real surprises. He was in a hat and a sporty zip up, not at all skinny, but not fat either. He had Christian radio on and his talk show opened up with a warning about having young children leave the room because they would be discussing sex. I wanted to die. Could this ride have been any more awkward? My roommate encouragingly squeezed my shoulder from the backseat. I loved her so much in that moment. We made small talk, J showed me all the dead zones, where he would lose me when we were talking on the phone. The night we got there we all piled into his car, he bought us all McDonalds and went to his hockey game. It was really fun. There was a lot of yelling. I was super nervous and not at all myself. I barely ate my mcnuggets.

J's grandma was adorable, she made us feel right at home. J gave up his king sized bed for me and my sisters. I went through his closet and looked at all his outfits, and what he was reading on his nightstand. I felt weird using his shower. I left one of my bobby pins in there. J had to work the next day, but I woke up to a text from him. Nothing too cute, just him making plans for us when he got out of work. We went to the mall and played putt putt. It was a lot warmer there. I rode with him in his car, just me this time. He told me he felt like he had known all of us for forever. I tried to make a couple jokes, but I just felt so much pressure to be everything he thought I was, that I just shut down. While we were at the mall, he barely talked to us, and was always a mile ahead of us when we walked. At one point we were sitting on a bench outside of a store, and I kept thinking to myself, I've waited so long for this moment, and here I am, right next to him, and we're not saying a word to each other. I just kept waiting for him to start trying, but he seemed so disconnected from me, from everyone. Neither of us were the confident people that we portrayed over the phone. We got home from the mall, played a little Wii, watched some Office, and just sat around. We were leaving in the morning, and my oldest sister was overtired and she started acting really weird and hitting J with a fly swatter. My roommate told her to go to bed, and surprisingly, she listened. She went up to J, offering him a hug, but he wouldn't give one to her. I laughed, glad that for once her flirty ways didn't get her anywhere. My roommate's blond sister was there, just watching us play Wii golf, and commenting on how much she hated it. Her and J started talking and before I knew it they were throwing grapes at each other. I tried not to be mad, tried to keep my cool, but I was furious. Really? Right in front of me? I told myself they were just being friendly, that it didn't mean anything, that I needed to stop being so insecure.

It was finally time for bed. We all said our goodbye's that night, since we were leaving at 6 am, and J didn't have to work till later. I had all this stuff in my hands, and J walked up and gave me a huge hug. It was awkward, my hands were full. I couldn't really hug back, so I just kind of leaned into him. I was confused, he didn't hug everyone else. What did it mean? I went to bed with a smile on my face. I couldn't wait to get a text from him in the morning. I thought it was weird that I wanted to know how he felt about me, but I couldn't talk about it with him in person. I remember being on the road and getting a text from him, it went something like this, "it was so awesome meeting you guys." I was so mad, blah blah blah, what about me? What about everything we talked about? I asked him about us, he played dumb and kept beating around the bush, not really giving me an answer. He kept talking in circles, and saying he felt like God was really working on him and that he had never been around a group of girls like us. Sure, that was nice and all, but it was like he completely disregarded everything we were, and he just lumped me in with everyone else. I was so hurt. I told him I couldn't talk to him for a while, I had to stop thinking of him the way I had before, I knew he couldn't mean so much to me anymore. I couldn't let him have so much of my time and energy anymore. But that's the thing about liking someone, well for me anyways. It was the first time a boy had admitted to liking me, I felt addicted to that feeling, and missed it when it was gone.

His birthday was coming up, I made him a card and drew all of his favorite things on it, but I couldn't bring myself to send it. Instead I wrote him a five page letter, trying to understand him. I wasn't trying to force him into liking me, that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted him to understand what he did to me, and to give him a chance to explain himself. I thought I had meant more, but all my worst fears about myself were confirmed.  He made me feel so insecure, so defeated. I mailed him the letter, he responded in a really long myspace message. It didn't answer any of my questions that had been gnawing away at me, but I started to accept that I probably never would really understand him. I slowly started to realize how lame he was, but everything still hurt so bad, I felt like I was losing a really good friend. I felt so bad about myself. I've always had a hard time separating out my feelings. I can't just quit someone, or flip a switch on how I view them. I knew it would take time, so I told him we couldn't talk anymore, not until I could switch my feelings over to viewing him as a friend. I eventually sent him his birthday card, and a few months later, we talked on the phone. He would randomly call me on his way home from hockey to talk about himself, then he would lose signal and not even bother to call me back. I also found out J had started texting my roommates blondie sister once we left. Big surprise. I stopped caring after a while. I had to. I guess I fell further than him after all. Sometimes you just have to let go, or you'll stay stuck forever. A few months later J started dating a girl he met online, but never in real life. I guess she was from Pennsylvania. It didn't last long. It was around this time when I started going to my new church, the one I'm at now. I remember being in such a dark place, and how Sunday mornings made me feel so safe and loved. I started serving in a ministry where the children needed so much love. I felt like I had wasted so much of my love, time, and emotions, but at least now I could finally invest them in something real. I felt needed. I was investing my heart where it would be safe. It was the one place where I felt like I didn't have to hide how sad I was. Even though I didn't know anyone, I felt like I could be myself and come just as I was, broken and lost. I had no idea you were so close, or what you would mean to me.

throwing blame & pointing fingers

April 2009*

Part 3
The night before we left, I was so excited, I couldn't sleep. We had built things up so much, that I felt like I could possibly be meeting my future husband. (confessional#7 I had our whole introduction down in my head. I planned on high fiving him for some reason.) The day we were supposed to leave, J texted me, telling me that his best friend wasn't coming now and that his car wasn't reliable enough to make it all the way to the Outer Banks. I was so angry. I couldn't even answer him. He wasn't even trying to find another way there. We had only been talking about this trip for months. He knew how much it meant to me, I thought it meant a lot to him too. I spent the whole car ride there disappointed. I didn't want this to ruin my whole trip. I was on my way to a beach house with my closest friends, I should've been so excited, if only I hadn't gotten my hopes up quite so high. I always place such high expectations on things and people, when I know I shouldn't. I was miserable, but pretending to still be excited. I was so angry at J. We drove through the night, so we were in terrible moods by the time we arrived at the beach. The rental place wasn't open, so we had no way to get our keys to the house. My sister was so stressed, and took it out on everyone else. As the oldest, she took on that role of being the mother figure, so she felt so much responsibility for us. I kept insisting we just drive down to the house, we argued back and forth, throwing blame around, pointing fingers. There was nothing left for us to do, but drive down the the house. It was unlocked, just waiting there for us. It was adorable and huge. I wanted to be so excited, this whole experience was supposed to be amazing, and J was ruining it, no matter what I tried to do, I couldn't let my disappointment go.

We texted back and forth a couple times. I suggested maybe meeting halfway between Charlotte and the Outer Banks, but there was really nothing in between. I remember being on the phone with him, so frustrated, a huge map laid out in front of me, I measuring the distance with my hand, and a place called Rocky Mount being halfway for us. Nothing was really working, I gave up and resorted to having everyone send him mass angry texts simultaneously. That made me feel a little bit better. It was freezing there that week. Almost unbearable, which was pretty disappointing considering we drove so far. In all of our pictures we made ourselves take our coats off so it would look warmer than it actually was. I kept making myself do crazy things, so I believed that I could have fun despite the major disappointment. I attacked the person dressed up as a lion at food lion. It made for some good photos. We went in the ocean, despite it being fifty degrees, made a horror movie at night, filmed a fake mtv cribs, and ate lots of good foods. I wrote in the sand and wanted to send you a picture, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't feel like you deserved to know that you were missed, that you were ruining my whole trip.

My oldest sister was so angry the entire time we were there. She kept complaining about the weather and saying she knew this would happen, why didn't we listen to her etc. She kept texting J and asking him what the temperature was there. I guess it was a lot warmer there since they were away from the ocean. They were in cahoots, J wanted us to drive all the way there, and my older sister just wanted a chance to wear all the tank tops she packed, she was also curious about what J and I would be like when we finally met each other. I thought he was being lazy and that it was out of the question for us to even consider making the drive out there. We had booked the beach house for the entire week, I didn't want to lose money for leaving early just so we could crash at J's at grandma's trailer. The whole thing just felt so weird, and I was finally starting to have fun. I didn't expect everyone to leave early and drive another 4 hours in the opposite direction of home, just to see a random boy, all because it was a little bit warmer there. There was some kind of vote taken, my sister threatened everyone and no one really wanted to hear her complain anymore, so we left early and headed to Charlotte, toward warmer weather, toward J.

the physical wreck

January - March 2009*

"We met on the front porch

Fell in love on the phone

Without the physical wreck"

- Ben Kweller

Part 2
I was attached to my phone. I couldn't be without it. We were always texting each other. I was always trying to get a good signal, or sneaking him a message under the table when I was supposed to be engaged in a serious conversation, or a guest in someone's home. He wanted to know me, really know me, and it scared me to death. J asked hard questions, he always wanted to talk on the phone. I was never ready, I was still convinced that he liked my sister and was stringing us both along, and I knew that as soon as I heard his voice there would be no turning back. It's one thing to be messaging back and forth, it was nice and I came to depend on it, but as soon as you hear a voice, it means everything. I knew I had talked to him once, in the beginning when things didn't matter, but now we were working towards something. I knew that talking on the phone would make everything real for me, for both of us. It felt safe to just have a texting relationship, he was thirteen hours away, he wasn't real, or at least that's what I told myself.

One night my sister was over for family dinner, she went into the other room to do something and I grabbed at her phone, scrolling through her text from J. I was convinced that he was flirting with both of us. I guess I was just a little paranoid. My sister had no idea how much we were talking and I didn't want to tell her. She was never good at keeping secrets. I found a text where she complained to him about being sick. He told her he would make her soup and sing to her. I was so angry, that's exactly what I thought was going on. It seemed silly that I reacted so strongly to this text, it wasn't like we were actually together, and he hadn't actually said anything that weird. I was just so insecure about the whole thing and wanted an excuse to get mad at him, to blame him for something.

J played hockey almost every night of the week. He had been begging me to call him, and I was so mad about those texts that I took that opportunity to call him and give him a piece of my mind on his voicemail. He called me back later that night, all confused as to why I was mad. He told me that he hadn't meant anything by his text, that he was just saying it as a friend. I let it go, we started talking like normal. J tried to get me to admit that I liked him. I told him he was crazy. He kept trying to convince me to move there, it seemed so ridiculous to me that he was even suggesting it. I would never move for someone I barely knew. It wasn't even a question for me. I was so close to my family and friends in my city.

I knew that once our phone conversations started, they wouldn't stop. He would call me all the time. At that point in my life I had just moved into my own apartment and I was always job searching. My days were often really long, lonely, and discouraging before he came along. He filled up my days, he gave me a reason not to sleep past 10 a.m. I loved waking up to something encouraging from him. He seemed really serious about me, really soon. I was terrified of ever meeting him. I felt so sure that once he met me, he wouldn't like me anymore. I guess I'm more insecure about my disability than I realize. I felt like once he saw me, and how I walked, he would change his mind about me. He told me over and over that this wasn't true. I know that it is one thing to know someone from online and on the phone, but another thing to be around someone in real life. You can play twenty questions every day for months, and get honest answers, but when it comes right down to it, you need real life to actually understand it all. In real life, you are able to see how someone interacts with others, how they converse, and what really matters to them. It's easy to say things, but everyone knows that it only counts for something when you really live out.

J was always telling me how much he loved God, and how he was always trying to grow in his faith. We read the book, "The Shack" together. I found it really controversial and blasphemous, he thought it was beautiful and that I went into reading the book with a closed mind. I just couldn't get past the fact that they portrayed Jesus as a black woman. We argued about it for days, he won. He always had really good points, and made me second guess myself. I liked the way we were always challenging each other. It was a new feeling for me.

I was so scared to admit to him that I liked him, even though he had more or less admitted it to me. I felt like as soon as I admitted this, I would be less appealing to him. I always blame it on the fact that boys play sports and they like the competitiveness of "the chase." I remember the night I admitted it to him. I didn't know how to tell him, I knew it wasn't fair to keep pretending that I didn't care about him. I didn't want to play games. I remember starting a fight, and him finally saying, "what is this really about?" Then I foolishly admitted that I liked him, I just didn't know how to say it. I wasn't used to having someone call me out on things. I had never told those words to a boy in my whole life. I was so used to hiding my feelings, and them never being reciprocated. I kept telling J over and over, I don't know how to do this stuff, I've never done this before, this is a big deal to me. I kept telling him that, but I don't think he ever really understood. J was always able to pin point the problem, and address it. Boys are pretty good at simplifying things, I love that about them. I could hear him smiling as he said, "oh, that's all?" We laughed about it, and that was it. There was nothing left, but to finally meet each other.

Oddly enough, my roommate and I had been planning a trip to North Carolina that April, we were going to the Outer Banks. I know it was still a big drive from where he lived, but I felt like God had this amazing sense of humor, that maybe this was part of the plan, as bizarre as it all was. We rented this adorable little house on the beach, for me, my oldest and youngest sister, my roommate, and her blond sister (Taylor Swift.) J promised to rent one close to us for him and a couple of his closest friends. I was so excited and nervous. I had so many fears about myself, about him liking my oldest sister instead, but I was a tiny bit hopeful, that for once my exterior wouldn't matter. That he knew and liked enough about me that it would mean more than the physical part. I remember trying to prep him for me, I made myself sound way worse than I actually was. I remember saying, "I'm kind of like a rag doll, I need to be propped up in a corner to sit." I would laugh so hard after I sent these text, and anxiously away his responses. It was a little mean how entertained I was by it all.

As the time grew closer for us to meet, I got more and more excited about it. I had such high expectations, he told me he was so sure of me, of us. I wanted so badly to believe him. He was dragging his feet about making reservations, it made me nervous. I even sent him links to a place that I thought would be cheap and nice. I left the rest up to him. I would stare at that picture of the beach house that we rented and dream up these really nice scenarios that always ended up with us taking long walks on the beach at night. I would fall asleep every night with my ipod on, listening to the same song over and over again. I'm not sure why it fit our situation so well. Every time I hear it, I still think of him. Everything seemed like it was falling into place. All I had to do now was pack my suitcase, and wait for April to come.

j, the one from north carolina

Winter 2008*

Part 1

This one's crazy. I wouldn't believe it if I heard it myself. Bizarre. I had zero intentions of ever getting to know J. He was just so insistent. My oldest sister has been going through this midlife crisis for years now. She's only twenty-eight, but as soon as her ex's started getting married, she went buck wild and signed up on every dating website. There have been so many interesting boys that have come out of her internet shennanigans. I wouldn't take the time to learn their names, I usually called them by their user names, since there were multiple boys with the same names. The whole concept of online dating freaks me out sometimes. I know it works for some people, and I'm really excited for them when it does, (confessional#6? I had a free membership for a week) but for me it just reminded me of how many other lonely people were out there searching for love based mostly on a picture. I know it's rude to be shallow, but when you can't experience someones personality in real life, you don't have much to go on besides a picture and a little blurb. All the generic winks and kisses that you can send someone seemed so demeaning and trivial. They may as well just have a, "I think you're hott" button.

Having a disability makes me feel a little bit like I'm deceiving these guys too. At what point do you drop the disability bomb? I think I would want to know if the roles were reversed. I just feel like it doesn't define who I am as a person, so it's not usually what I talk about when I first meet someone. At the same time, it doesn't seem fair to have someone fall for you and then say, oh my b, I have a plastic brace for a body. I know everyone says that in the end looks don't really matter, but they always do to an extent. Sometimes attraction can grow. I've found that when I'm getting to know someone, their looks appear average at first, but once I really got to know them, I started to actually see them for everything they are, and it almost seems like their appearance changes. I think that sometimes love changes how we perceive people. Attraction is only a starting point.

It would be so much easier if we could walk around and see people for their souls instead of their faces. I think our investments and who we spent our time with would be drastically different. Society is always portraying beauty as everything, sometimes I think the prettiest people are the most miserable. How do they ever know when someone is liking them for them? I hate to admit that sometimes I treat people differently depending on how they look. I often avoid people who I think are pretty, or have it all together. I find them intimidating and unrelatable. Maybe these outwardly beautiful people wouldn't be so sad if girls weren't intimidated by them, and guys didn't cater to them? Maybe they just get attention in all the wrong places. There I go, judging people again, thinking I have all the answers, I know I don't. This is all speculation.

It's a little ironic, I was there the night she called J from North Carolina for the first time. He didn't pick up. When my sisters lived near me, we used to get together once a week for family dinner night. It was nice to have a little home away from home night amidst our busy weeks. My oldest sister was over one night and told me I had to hear J from North Carolina's voicemail, she said it was the "funniest thing ever." I gave it a listen, wasn't impressed, but before I knew it, I was leaving him this very long, ridiculous message, and he was calling back asking to talk to me. We talked for an hour, while my sister and roommate listened. I could hear my sister in the background saying over and over, "they're going to end up liking each other." I was so annoyed, but we had this hilarious conversation going that I just couldn't hang up. We ended up quoting our favorite show to each other. When I hung up the phone, I felt like I unleashed a monster, like I was potentially getting myself into a huge mess.

My initial thought was, "oh crap, what have I done?" my second thought was, "what in the world does this kid look like?" I immediately wanted to facebook him. I felt like we both were genuinely ourselves for that entire phone conversation, and I know it was silly, but we had this electric banter going back and forth, like we were made to talk like that. There was something great about having zero preconceptions about each other. It was based solely on this weird verbal chemistry we had. I made my sister show me him online. In every picture he seemed to be hiding his face or things were too blurred for me to know what I was actually looking at. I told myself I didn't care what he looked like, that it didn't matter to me, that us talking was a one time deal. After our phone conversation, my sister told me that J always asked to talk to me, and wanted me number. I refused to give it to him, or talk to him on the phone. I didn't want to get into a love triangle with my sister and one of her men from another state. He added me on myspacemyspace. He was relentless, and I was bored, so one day I gave him my number. We started texting quotes daily. He delivered pizzas and would text me all the time.

One day he asked if he could get to know me. I panicked and immediately responded with a "no way." There was no way I wanted to be involved with someone who had been interested in my sister. Her and I were so different, I don't see how he could jump from her, to me. It just made me feel so weird. I kept thinking that there was no way I would get involved emotionally, I didn't want to feel like I was competing with my sister for him. I had an overwhelming sense of avoidance, even though I felt like we had compatible personalities and I did enjoy talking to him. That's when I dropped the disability bomb, in hopes that it might scare him away. It didn't.

My outright refusal to get to know him made him mad. He argued with me, and we went back and forth, each of us trying to get our own points across. Guess who won? I never seem to follow my instincts, I'm not sure why. That winter I kept him a secret from everyone besides my roommate. I didn't want it to get out that I was talking to one of my sister's online flames. Too embarrassing. I usually hated winter. Christmas made me crazy, I've always had this need to go sweater shopping for a boy. It seemed so crucial to my existence every winter, I'm not sure why. It's the one holiday that I want to share with someone. J came right on the tale end of Christmas. I guess I will blame it on that..

r, the one from college

2004-2007*
Where to begin with this one, I just don't know. I think I cried the most over R. He changed my perspective on life. He was in all of my art classes freshman year. He got on my nerves, with his highlights and popped collar polos. R was the kind of boy I wanted to get away from when I finished high school. R was obsessed with this one girl from our class, she was really good at painting, but really mouse-y looking. For some reason all the boys went crazy over her. It was probably the fact that she was tiny, but had huge boobs. Every time we would have a critique in art class, her paintings would be the best, she was so good at realism and painting faces. The part that annoyed me about her so much was how she would complain about her paintings and how they were terrible. I'm not sure when R and I started our friendship. One day I said something funny and it was like he noticed I was there all of a sudden. Before I knew it, he was putting his number in my phone and wanting to hang out. R was, and still is one of the funniest people I have ever met. He has this infectious personality that made me forget that I had other friends at school. He's the one person that could make me do things that I normally wouldn't do. I wanted to do them because he would get so genuinely excited for me to experience them. Once he convinced me to try and learn how to ride a bike. He would put me on the bike and steer me down the path so it felt like I was really riding it, another time he held my hands so I could try the hopscotch he had drawn on the sidewalk in front of my dorm.

I don't know how we ever got anything done, we were always getting in trouble. Once, in astronomy class we started laughing so hard about something and couldn't stop, R had to leave the room. We were quite a pair, everyone asked us if we were together, it seemed like we were, but I knew better. They were always talked about how cute you were, but I was never attracted to you. I gave myself the title of being his 'life coach' it just meant I would hold his shirt underneath down while you took off your sweatshirt. He would call me every morning saying, "wakey wakey, eggs and bakey." I always pretended to be super annoyed by his constant phone calls, and how he could never seem to remember our homework assignments, but at the same time, I liked how much he came to rely on me. It made me feel needed.

We had our signature move we always did at our college dances, I would stand in front of him and he would lift me up as I jumped in the air, while he rotated in a circle. It looked hilarious, everyone would stare. Oh man alive could R dance. I made him take my sister to her prom, they cleared the dance floor for them. He was such a slacker, but when he was passionate about something, he would work so hard at it. He was a new Christian, and was in every club and organization on campus. He would always be in the front row at chapel, eyes closed, hands raised in worship. One thing I began to notice about him, was the way he burned bridges. He would be obsessed with someone, or something, then pour everything into that person until they couldn't stand each other. R was always full of energy, and off the wall. My friends didn't really understand what I saw in him, or why we got along so well. We always had identical schedules since we were the same major, he would throw me over his shoulder and carry me down the sidewalk while sharing ipod headphones, people got used to our weird antics. R demanded so much attention, that my other friends would get mad. He was demanding, I know I dropped things that I shouldn't have for him. I was always making him my priority.

I have this one memory of him that really stands out, I was really sick and sneezing everywhere, I looked like a hott mess. R offered to take me to the store to buy me some orange juice (the good kind.) I don't even think he bought it for me, I just appreciated that he cared and drove me there. He was always so selfish though, and I knew he only liked me when I was funny. It was hard to always keep that up all the time. We got so close, that the lines between friendship and dating started to blur. I got confused about how I felt, our closeness was all the time, we were so comfortable together. He was always laying on me or carrying me around. It started to confuse me. We both signed up to go on a trip to Paris and London with our art class. (Confession#5 I had all these elaborate dreams where I told him how I felt about him under the Eiffel tower at night. I was wearing a red beret and an amazing dress, in my fantasy, he would tell me that he liked me back, then he would kiss me and my foot would pop.)

I was at my older sister's house one night and she she informed me that she heard from a friend of a friend that R was gay and had a boyfriend, he was just too scared to come out because our college was so strict. I was so angry with her for telling me something about my best friend. I knew him way better than her, I would know if he had two lives. The thought of this whole idea made me so upset. One night in astronomy class, he confessed to me that it was true. He wrote me a note, I saw it coming and I had my hood up so  he couldn't see my face. I almost started crying. He had no idea how much I cared about him, and how terrified I was for him that he was heading down this path.

Paris and London came around, we were so excited. I felt the weight of everything he told me, it was always there in the back of my mind. I felt this need to convince him that his lifestyle change was a mistake, and to remind him of what he already knew was true, that it wasn't how God wanted us to live, it wasn't how he created us to be. I felt so responsible to tell him this, since we were so close. Our first night there, we couldn't sleep, it was so fun having our bedrooms were right next door to each other and we knocked to each other on the wall, from our beds. We met on our tiny twin balconies and giggled about how we were in Paris. He offered me his ipod so I could fall asleep. I fell asleep listening to his music, dreaming that he wasn't gay, that my Eiffel tower dream was so close. I kept gearing myself up for it, hoping I would be brave enough when the moment came, and that our friendship and how he felt about me would mean more to him than his new found sexuality. Since R was my only real friend on the trip, he felt responsible for me. Everyone was always walking too fast and leaving us behind while we were on our tours and trips to the museums. He got so frustrated with me and stressed with his new role. He started to resent me, and distance himself from me. He joined up with other people and tried to push me off on a different group. I cried myself to sleep most nights. I hated that I was such an inconvenience to him, I tried so hard to keep up with everyone. Every night in Paris, when I we would get back to our room, I would collapse on my bed in exhaustion. My legs would ache so badly, but I wouldn't be able to sleep a wink. My mind wouldn't shut off. I felt so much pressure to fix everything, to make him love me, to make him see that his new lifestyle would only bring him so much pain, to pick me instead.

Our trip ended, I didn't feel like telling him how I felt about him anymore, he wasn't worth the effort. I could see how selfish he was, how he was and always would be chasing after the funniest, or the most exciting thing. I didn't get my picture exactly how I wanted it. He kissed me on the cheek, but it was all staged. Someday I wouldn't have to ask a boy to kiss me at night under the eiffel tower. He would just want to, so he would. We barely talk anymore, we have nothing in common, besides our old memories and stories. We got together once and went to visit our old college. We went to the old "cubbies" (where couples would cuddle and makeout.) We had once carved our initials inside one of them with a pen. We wanted to see if we could find it again. We walked around campus, he threw me over your shoulder, just like old times. This time all the students who passed us on the sidewalk were new, they stared at us, so confused by everything. We just laughed. We got to my dorm, only to find they had taken the cubbies out. Our initials were lost forever. R always comes up on my facebook newsfeed. He's always running around in his underwear with another guy. It makes me upset, I feel like I should have tried harder. I found a letter I wrote him, but never sent. I guess it's never too late to show someone that you care. It's just that sometimes so much time passes that our priorities shift, and what used to mean the world to you, suddenly disappears into the haze of everything else that runs through your mind in a day. It just turns into another one of those things you cannot control, one of the things you slowly give up on. I wish I could have been a better friend. Maybe I just gave up when I realized he would never love me. I'm sorry R.

on pretending & judgements

I must confess I have been very judgmental my whole life. I tend to draw conclusions before hearing the whole story, and sometimes even after I hear the story, I still think I know best, but that's the thing about life, we can never really understand someone till we've lived what they've lived and looked at things through their lens. Since that's impossible, I often find myself judging first, listening second. It's something that I've been working on for a long time now. I think it has a little to do with the fact that I grew up so sheltered. My parents were really strict, I was home schooled from 1st-8th grade. When I was younger, the only thing we would talk about was what happened at the Sunday night service at church, or what new contemporary christian cassette tape was coming out that week, so when I heard about anything else, it seemed scandalous. I know my parents meant well, they were trying to protect us. I appreciate the measures they took and how much they loved us. I feel like they built a strong foundation for us, so when I went to public high school later, I was confident in my beliefs, but my worldview was small. It would take me a while to realize that I had to develop my own opinions and thoughts on God and life, and that there is a huge difference between legalism and holiness.

I have three sisters, they are 28, 21, and 17, and an older half brother. who is 33. I fall right in the middle of everything. The middle child, I'm sure I have all the complexes associated with middle child syndrome. Our family appeared perfect on the outside. My dad lead the kids programs at church, played the organ, and did everything that a man who had been divorced could do without actually preaching. We were in church at least three times a week. My dad is Native American, and his whole family lives on the reservation and that was where we attended church. Most the kids that would come out to church were wild and unkempt. I was the well behaved, overachiever whose dad was in charge. I memorized all my verses above and beyond what was expected, I sat super still during the mini sermon, in hopes that I would get the 'hot seat' or candybar prize at the end of the night. I remember wanting so badly to fit in with those wild native kids, that I practicing this one sentence that had borderline profanities in it, I wanted this one girl to think I was super bad, so she would want to be my friend. I said my slang one liner, she was impressed. Our friendship was short-lived, she figured out I wasn't as bad as I pretended to be. I don't even remember her name.

How my family was in church, and how we were at home, were two different things. Over the years, things started to fall apart. I think we forgot what it meant to be a family. It seemed like we got so caught up in what we were supposed to be, that we forgot what really mattered. Tuesday nights at church became the only times we would see my dad. He was always seemed to be too busy for us when he was home. I started resenting the time he spent with those kids, he would pour more into them than he would with us at home. I didn't like that I had to share him. My whole family started to go through the motions, we thought that it would carry us through. And that is what is so wrong with pretending, it's only a temporary fix, something to hold you over till the real storm hits.

e, the identical twin

 She said "I've gotta be honest,

You're wasting your time if you're fishing round here."

And I said "you must be mistaken,

I'm not fooling... this feeling is real"

-D.C.

2005*

E, he was different, I think he actually liked me back, our timing was just all off. My older sister was dating his twin brother. When they first started dating, she confused the two of them and accidentally paid the wrong brother a compliment. Awkward. The twins started coming to our new church. They were both obsessed with history, poker, and fast cars. Every Sunday E and I would pass notes through the entire church service. These notes, along with my senior picture would become bookmarks in his Bible. I loved the nickname he gave me, and how every time he would see me, his whole face would light up.

I was ridiculous and made him a CD and put one song at the end that secretly said how I felt about him. We were always talking about going fishing together, but never did. I remember when he came to my house the night before I left for college. He brought me a farewell gift. It was this metal Curious George lunch box. He had filled it with sour patch kids. I can't remember why, it was probably some long running joke we had going. He was the first boy to ever give me one of his sweatshirts. It was black, and huge on me, but I loved it. I think he had sprayed it with his cologne before he gave it to me. I wasn't mad.

One Sunday we were passing notes, I can remember how the sun was coming in through the window and hitting my legs, making me wish I had shaved them a little better and hoping he wouldn't notice. (Confessional#4 sometimes I think that having darker skin allows me to have a free pass on not shaving my legs.) E had a girlfriend at the time and he had been complaining about her to me a lot. I remember this one monumental note he passed me, it said, "I want my next girlfriend to be funnier, like you..." I remember freaking out and not being able to look at him. Sometimes this is what happens when you were homeschooled and never really got a chance to interact with boys, so you turn into this little weirdo who reads into everything. My only redeeming quality was, when I would start to think like this, I would never outwardly respond or verbalizing my thoughts. I would just freak out internally. Looking back on it now, his comment wasn't that flattering, but at the time I was just thinking, "oh my gosh, what if he wants me to be his next girlfriend?" 

I remember going back to college after that weekend and still freaking out. I was taking a 3D class and we were building these shacks out of wood scraps. I was talking to my roommate, who's actually still my roommate now. I was sawing wood and whining about a situation that wasn't even real, I was making it seem like I had this huge decision to make, when in reality, he was still with his girlfriend. I think it was just the first time it seemed like someone could possibly be into me. I immediately stopped talking to him, and dodged him for the next couple weeks at church. When the possibility that someone could like me was there, I clammed up. I would question whether I actually liked him or not. I think what I was actually doing, was wondering why he would want to be with me. My whole life boys had always treated me like I was just another one of the guys, and when one actually showed interest in me, it would freak me out. I would immediately assume there was something wrong with them if they liked me. I guess my older sister wasn't the only one guilty of letting a boy define her. The next time I saw him, the weirdness was gone, the moment had passed. I knew I had missed my opportunity. I was back to being one of the guys.

I can remember how badly I always wanted to be in pictures with E. He was over at my mom's house one day after church, so I had my younger sister casually take a few pictures, I remember not wanting him to know what I was doing, but I wasn't as subtle as I thought I was. I tried getting my youngest sister to be in them with us, but she wouldn't. In all pictures (which are printed) I'm yelling at her, with my arm outstretched trying to get her to be in the photo. E broke up with his girlfriend not too long after the note incident. He would spend hours on the phone with me, talking about life and love, he even came to visit me at school one weekend. It felt safe to like him again, I was back in my comfortable role of giving him girl advice. I kept hoping he would hint at something again, hoping our conversations would come back to us. I didn't really know where it was going, but that following summer he started dating a new girl. I remember being so devastated, and sitting in my blazer (that I couldn't drive because it didn't have hand controls, so it just sat in the driveway) and crying on the phone to my best friend. A month later E showed up to my sisters (the who was dating his brother) college graduation party with his new girl. She was sweet and bubbly, I remember feeling bad for her because of how excited E got when he saw me, and how he kept her out of our conversation the entire time. I felt so bad, that I found ways to include her and let her in on our jokes. When he left I wondered why they were together, and I hate to say this, a little bit excited that he still cared about me. I decided to wait for him just a little bit longer.

I would feel so left out whenever my sister would show me pictures of their double dates. I couldn't help but think that it should have been me in all those pictures with him. Twins dating sisters, it made for such a good story. I never could admit to my oldest sister that I liked E. I'm sure she knew though, she had to have known. A couple years later, my family and I attended his grandmother's funeral. A lot had changed, our siblings broke up, and E was engaged to that sweet, bubbly girl. I remember putting on my cutest black dress and being unsure of how I would feel when I saw him again. We did our usual greetings, and caught each other up on life. Later on I would observe how they stood next to each other as they talked to family and friends. It was a sad night, but everyone would smile when she showed off the ring. I remember realizing that if I had been with E, I would be the one who was engaged. I realized that I didn't want to be in her shoes for anything. I saw what my life would be like with E. He would always want to stay in his tiny town, ten minutes away from his parents, playing poker with the same guys every weekend. I didn't want the comfort of always knowing what was coming next.

Last year my mom and sister ran into E at a restaurant, they said he was a mess, that he had just broken off his engagement and was drowning his sorrows in a beer. I remember how every time I was home visiting my mom and I would pass his parents house, I would always look for his big truck, or hope to catch a glimpse of him outside. I had bought E these race car pencils with his name on them, but I waited too long to give them to him, and I would always find them in odd places around my room. They served as a reminder to me of our forgotten friendship. This summer I ran into a mutual friend of ours, she said E had just gotten married and was off somewhere in the Caribbean on his honeymoon. Both of the twins got married, I haven't heard from either one of them in years. I hope E is happy. I wish we had gone fishing together, at least once. Here's part of the song, the one I put at the end his CD. Looking back on all of it now, I realize that my feelings for him probably weren't real. When you're younger, it's just so hard to figure out who you are, so you try to figure out who you are in terms of someone else. Problem is, that usually leaves you feeling even more lost. Everything just feels so extreme and raw when you're a teen, like you're feeling everything all at once, and it always seems like the end of the world. Here's to being thankful that I wasn't included in those double date pictures after all.

r, the one from church

1999*
Next on the list is R from church. Out of all the boys on my list, I have liked him the longest. I tried to figure it out the other day, and I think it was something crazy, like four years. I was probably thirteen when I first liked him. We went to Japan together on a missions trip with our church, we roller skated on Tuesday nights with our youth group (Tuesday nights were Christian music night), and we were both in the living nativity together (naturally, we were both shepherds.) My church went all out every year with the living nativity. There was always a real person on the roof, posing as an angel, and real animals in a pen around the tiny nativity. (Confessional#3 I remember one particular night of the living nativity, my shepherd's headdress went awry and I went up to R and asked him to fix it, he gently arranged it around my face. I remember getting so nervous that I was so close to a boy and as a defense mechanism, I closed my eyes, and pulled the I can't see him, so he obviously can't see me trick, you know, the one that a three year old would use. Lord knows what he thought I was trying to pull. I tried to block that out of my mind, but so much time has past, that I just find it funny now.)

Every girl at youth group liked R. He was tall, had dark hair, was musical, and had these amazing blue eyes. We were real friends, he thought I was funny, and everywhere I went he was always one step ahead of me, with his hand out, waiting to escort me down the stairs, or bending down so I could climb on his back when I was too tired to walk. He would have done anything for me and I knew it. While we were on our missions trip in Japan, we went to the ocean. There was this huge, plastic floating island pretty far out on the water, I knew I couldn't swim that far, especially against the waves, so I sat on the shore, watching everyone. I was used to this, and didn't complain, I knew there would always be things I couldn't do, I just had to wait them out. I can't remember who it was, but someone took pity on me, and swam me out there. R promised he would bring me back, but for some reason, it was a lot harder swimming back to the shore. I can still remember him struggling, but pretending not to, so I wouldn't get nervous. I remember barely holding onto him and trying to utilize my floating abilities as much as possible, so I wouldn't weigh him down too much. He was scared to put his feet down to see if he could touch the bottom. He thought that if he stopped kicking long enough to see how deep it was and never felt the bottom, we would sink. By the time he put his feet down, the water was up to his knees. We both laughed nervously about what had happened, and he never spoke of it again. I didn't realize how scared he was until a couple years later, when his sister confessed that he had told her it was one of the scariest moment of his whole life, and that he thought we were going to die out there on the ocean that day. I couldn't believe he had been that terrified. The fact that he had waited so long to finally put his feet down, made me feel so loved.

I remember the day I stopped liking him. We were at youth group, and he had just lost at a game of basketball. He got so mad and started yelling, he threw the ball at these metal chairs and stomped off. It was so loud, I remember being scared of him, and thinking that I never wanted to be with anyone like that. I saw firsthand what living with someone who had a temper was like, and I didn't want to travel down that road again and deliberately choose that life for myself. When I was seventeen my family started going to a new church. I wouldn't see R again till I was a sophomore in college. When he visited me at school, all I could think about was how much I had changed, and how much he had stayed the same. I cringed when he loyally bent down for me to get on his back, for old time's sake. I told him I was fine, that I could walk, but he was persistent, I remember telling myself, this was the boy who saved you in the ocean, so I got on his back. I remember how horrible I felt after he left, knowing that I had outgrown him. His nervous laugh bothered me, he wasn't confident anymore, he was awkward and only talked about himself. I started to mean too much to him, so I pulled away.

And this is always how it goes, these boys always choose to like me when I finally get over them. I tried to keep in touch out of obligation, but there was nothing holding us together anymore. He got married last week, but didn't invite me to the wedding. I was a little hurt, but I realized that I couldn't always expect him to be there, offering his hand to me, or his arms to carry me. He's putting his feet down for another girl now, and I'm genuinely happy for him.

k, the boy from India

1996*
Almost every girl I know has a list, you know, that long list of guys they've dated and been in love with. My list is hilarious, there are only five boys on it, and from that list, I've only dated one of them. I will put them in order of how much they've meant to me.

1. You
2. J (from north carolina)
3. R (from college)
4. E (the identical twin)
5. R (from church)

because I can
5 and a half. K (from India)

When I start to like someone, it usually goes like this, I observe their character, I get to know them as a friend, then I'm secretly in love with them for years. I watch them date other girls, and give them good advice on their relationships, but the whole time I'm just waiting, wishing they would figure out that I'm the girl they want. I'm always the funny girl, the one who makes every guy laugh, but no one actually wants to be with. I know looks are important to guys, it's just how God made them. I don't have a perfect body, my brace is plastic and hard, I get it. I think about how I would be so different if I could wear whatever I wanted and had a "perfect body." It is so hard to be a modest girl these days, I don't give my sisters enough credit for how trendy, yet classy they are. God knows what we can and cannot handle, he doesn't give us anything we cannot bear. I feel like I've been so protected from things that could be bad. So what I think I'm trying to say is, I'm thankful for my disability. It keeps me humble and modest.

K, he really shouldn't make the list, but he was the first boy who really meant something to me, so I count him. He was born in India and had a twin sister who was best friends with my oldest sister. I think they were adopted as babies and lived here their whole lives. They were in our home school group, his mom was close friends with my mom, so I usually saw him at least once a week. We would get lost in the woods for hours. He was in my life for these fleeting, amazing years when you're not old enough to be self conscious yet, but you can run around by yourself and have the kind of fun that leaves you going to bed dirty and exhausted, but with a smile on your face. You worry about nothing beyond what your mom is making for dinner, always have more than enough energy, and going to bed seems like the end of the world. I spent most of those days with him. We would build forts in the basement, and catch frogs in the ditch with the pool skimmer. I remember him sitting by my bed after my surgery, when I was in my full body cast. It was awkward, we couldn't play like we were used to. By the time I was healed, he had stopped coming over.

K was two years older than me and as soon he turned into a teenager, he lost interest in me, and later on wouldn't even acknowledge me in public. That's when I realized that boys only like girls who are terrified of things like spiders and snakes, and only like the color pink. They didn't want to date the girl who acted just like them and only loved blue. My strongest memory of him occurred when I was twelve years old and he was fourteen. It was one of the last times he ever came over. We were in the basement, it had been a while since he was over, and I was so excited to see him and hoped that things would be normal again. We built this fort under the stairs, there were a ton of pillows in there, and we crawled in all excited, just like old times. Once we got situated, we were both so quiet and unsure of ourselves. I felt his arm around me, and he started to play with the flower barrette in my hair. I can still remember the pink striped shirt I was wearing that day, and how I was shaking so bad, and hoping he wouldn't notice. My little sister decided to make an appearance and turned on the lights. She yelled, "what are you guys doing down here?!" I remember being disappointed and relieved at the same time. Later on, after he had gone, I would question whether that had actually happened or not. He moved away a couple months later and I often wondered if I had made him up all together. He remained tall, dark, and handsome in my mind, that is until I found him this year on facebook. I got so excited, till he accepted my friend request...I don't think he grew an inch vertically since I saw him last and he was drunk in almost every photo. He started chatting with me lots, and wanted me to fly down to visit him. Man alive, I should have just left him how he was in my mind, perfect and adoring me in my basement, in our fort under the stairs.