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In this blog, I will try to explain what I think is the biggest reason why people hurt over an ex, or even a current relationship, and how you can overcome that.

A long time ago I used to be a mall rat. I used to go to Grapevine Mills Mall and that’s when I started dressing emo, when I started doing drugs, when I started smoking and when I started falling in love. The first girl I fell head over heels for was for a girl that is named Jordan Elizabeth Amick.

She was a little younger than me, and I never really got to talk to her, but one day when I was high, she went up to me and boldly came up and just kissed me on the lips. When I’m high, things seem complicated and simple at the same time, and when she kissed me, and I saw her beautiful little face with that cute button nose and her red short hair, I was in love.

We fell in love soon after that. We started talking a lot and hanging out a lot, we were madly in love. I could describe a million scenes right now, a scene where we first ’did stuff’ at a park with her best friend Rachel walking around, alone (god bless that girl lol), the time we first hung out at her house, and we hugged in a secret forest for literally, about ten minutes, all the times we walked around the mall, her clinging to my arm, proud to show off her boyfriend that was known as the most popular hottest rock kid of all time (at that time), I could describe to you a million thing, but if you’ve ever been in love, you know what I mean, and you have similar situations. The first kiss, all the late night phone conversations, meeting the parents, all that jazz.

I don’t really know what happened after that. And if you have ever been hurt by someone very badly, I think you know what I mean. Things are so wonderful, your just so in love, and then you wake up and three years have gone by and you think "What happened?"

The same thing happened to me. We started having sex, and that was fine, for the first few months. But then just all these little things just kept building up, and now, here I am, three years later, and discovering that I still desparately care for this stupid girl that I want to get over.

I think when we were young, me and Jo, I think we didn’t realize the implications of sex, of the results of the bond it creates, or of drugs, or jealousy, or jealousy of a best friend, and many others. We were too young. We wanted something we thought we could have, but were too immature to know it. We thought it was easy, that there was nothing that hard that we could not face. That we could beat sin.

I haven’t even seen her in a long time, and the last time we talked on the phone she hurt me worst than any other time, just using her voice. The last thing she said to me was "Don’t you ever fucking call me again, Drake." Click.

For three years I’ve been hurting from her. For three years and still, today, sometimes I think about her, and it just hurts, it’s like a black hole in my stomach, when I see her myspace and hear her voice, when I text her and she gets her friends to cuss me out on the phone, the hole just widens larger and larger, and it just hurts so freaking badly. I can’t even explain it with words, and that’s incredible to me, because I’m a writer, but if you’ve ever been truly hurt, you know what I mean.

I think if I was a magnifecent painter I would be able to explain it. I would draw a big picture of just blackness, unending blackness, and it’s edges would be made out of razors.

For so long I’ve been hurting, and it’s not like every day I cry about it. But every once in a while I am reminded of her, and I wonder, "Will I ever get over this? Will I ever get over my first love, the person I gave my virginity to?" And I ask people, and they all give me different replies, but tonight, I got a different answer, and I realized why I have been hurting, and I think it’s the number one reason why everybody hurts for so long.

I think it’s because they ’why’s’. I wish that we could have just broken up quickly, and never talked again. I wished that she would have just cheated on me while we broke up, and that would have been that. There are certain standards every person lives by, if she does that, I’ll break up with her, if he does that, it’s over, for sure. But when these standards remain unbroken, and things get messy, when things get complicated, when things happen, like she has sex with some guy after we break up at a party, or I go out with so and so on Christmas and do this or that, everything gets so confusing. And I think, even if it was a simple break, a simple standard broken, it would still be the same, we would still ask why.

For a while, after we broke up, we kept trying again. We saw each other and talked, then we went back out, then we lasted a month, then we stopped for a few months. Then we tried again, we broke up, and tried over and over, and all this was incurring were more and more why’s.

Sometimes I want to call her so badly at night, when I think of her, and I realize that I just want to know why. Why, Jo, did you have sex with that guy at that party the day after we broke up? Were you really that drunk? Was it in spite? Why, Jo, did you hold hands with Marshall that day yall drove home, and it took a while for you to tell me? Was it just a fleeting stupid, senseless thing? Why, Jo, when I know you care about me, say hurtful things? Why, Jo, why? Why this! Why that! I want to know why she did every thing to hurt me, I want to know everything! Tell me why you did this! Tell me why Jo!


And I tried. I called her a few times, asking why, and I got answers. But there were always more answers, and even if not, how do I know those are really true answers? Time has gone by, and time blurs our reasons for doing things.

Our heads are like invisible jigsaw pieces.

I don’t know. For so long I just keep asking why’s, and I think that’s what kept me sad.

Tonight I asked this guy at work, this older guy that is always smiling. His name tag says Jim B. and I always call him Jim Bean after the alcoholic beverage. I asked him if it’s possible to get over your first love, and he said yes. He started talking about this and that, and I didn’t even relate anything of my story to him about Jo, and then he said it.

With his hand against a pallet jack, his eyes staring off into space, his lips chewing gum and his voice coming out of one side of his mouth with his stupid tie die shirt (he’s like fifty...), he says, "But I realized, Drake, that you just have to stop asking all the why’s. They just keep you going, and your never gonna really find out. You just got to stop asking the why’s, and force yourself to move on."

I hope I did that tonight. I think I did. I rarely ask why’s anymore, but now I know that that’s why I went through that for so long.

I know that some of you are hurting so badly. You, the person reading this, might be hurting so badly, and might have a billion fucking why’s to not just one person, but many, or this or that, or whatever. I don’t know. I don’t know your story. All I know is that the why’s are what keep causing that hole to grow. So quit it. I know what it’s like, I know the pain, I know the fantasies to the past, and worst of all, oh god, the dreams. The dreams are the worst, because your back there, your that age again, your in love again, and then you wake up, and three years have gone by, and you wonder why this, why that?

So hopefully you won’t ask any more why’s. I know I won’t. I mean, in the back of my mind I will always wonder, why DID she do that? But I won’t dwell on it. I will just say that I learned through it all.

Dear Jo,
I know you probably won’t read this. You deleted your myspace and hate my guts, and probably want to stab my eyes out. I know you will probably never, in your life, check my myspace again, and even if you do, it might be years, and this blog will be long and gone, deleted in the infinite negative archives of computerdom. But if you do read this, I just want you to know I still love you. I will always love you, I gave you my heart, and it would be a shame to say "I love you as a friend," because when we were in love, I told you, you had my heart forever. Of course, I’m smart now, and I wouldn’t try again with you, but I do love you, and I want you to know, more than anything, that I’m sorry for all the mean things I’ve done to you. God knows I’ve done a lot, some recently, some a long, long time ago. But I’m sorry, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me one day, even if I am unaware of it.

In a perfect world, Jo, we would have lasted. In a perfect world we would have stayed together and really gotten married and had Lilly and Amory and that wierd name you always wanted, I think it was Emery, or the name of some band, I’m not sure, but this is not a perfect world. We are the victims only to this broken world full of sin, run by the prince of demons, Satan. We are victims, but not for long.

I hope one day that we can see each other again in heaven. I hope you keep fighting the good fight (words paul used) for our faith, that you keep fighting, and one day we will be in heaven together, and everything will be glorious and wonderful, and we won’t have to worry about silly grown up things like relationships or sex, because there is no marriage in heaven, just, I believe, dancing and drinking and praising God, where we will all be kids and love everything and smell flowers and praise God and dance for him and sing and fly on clouds and eat honey with new types of fruit and swim in rivers of gold and walk on floors of diamonds, where we will build up the kingdom of God on Earth just like the bible says, and we will be happy, and the best part about all of this, the best part is not that it is so wonderful and lovely and amazing, but that it’s forever, that there is no growing of physical bodies, there is no tomorrow, it’s just one, infinite, beautiful day.

And that, I think, is something so amazing we cannot even wrap our minds around it.

I love you Jo, and I hope you have a wonderful and happy life. I hope you stay with God, I hope you get old and meet a wonderful guy that can put up with your craziness, lol, and that, most of all, I hope that when you think of me you don’t get sad or ask why’s, that you just remember the good times, and think to yourself, when you wake up from having a dream about me and become sad, that it was not pointless, because the only reason we are sad in the first place is because the bad times, I hope you remember the good times, our first kiss, may 13th, the paintings, the scary movies, the late nights on your couch, that "let’s just get married" song, the gifts, the wierd fetishes I had, lol, that one wierd fetish you had, the times we played in your pool with your family, the hot dogs and all the times, all the glorious times that I walked ten miles on the side of a damn highway, ten there and ten back, just to spend a night with you.
But I don’t want you to be sad when you remember these things because they are gone, but be happy because we are over! I know that sounds morbid, but thank God you don’t have to deal with my freak outs or my going crazy attacks! Thank god I don’t have to deal with blue balls anymore! Thank God you don’t have to deal with me crying on the phone, and thank God I don’t have to worry what you are doing!

Thank God, enjoy the good memories, and learn from the bad ones. And don’t ask why’s. There’s my advice, I hope it goes on my tombstone. But if it does, I’ll never know.



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May. 11th, 2008 08:51 pm (UTC)
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