What It Felt Like

I remember it too vividly.

It was the morning after I felt my heart ripped out of my chest and left in pieces on the floor of a college dorm. It was late August, about the time a new school year finally begins. I had long awaited this day; we both knew it was going to happen, yet we tried to avoid it throughout our relationship. 

He was a senior and I was a sophomore the time we met. We had mutual connections that reminded me of his handsome self. I remember walking the halls long before we were a glimmer in each other's eyes, thinking to myself, any girl who dates him must be lucky, for he sure is something. We spoke frequently and after two months, he finally took me out for ice cream.

That night, he shared with me his inner thoughts, his personal life, and a special part of his soul. That night, he told me about the colleges to which he had been accepted. I was so happy for him. My new friend was going to college! After the happiness subdued, I was overwhelmed with emotion. He's going to college. One thing was for sure: If we were to pursue a relationship together, he would eventually be going off to start a new journey, one I would not be able to relate with for some time. But, it was September, and we had a year ahead of us to enjoy together.

As I watched him walk across the stage at his graduation in May, my now-boyfriend was officially ending a chapter in his life. At that point, I wasn't so sure about how he felt maintaining a common factor in his new life path (that factor being me). In that moment, who cared? We had three months of summer vacation to enjoy together.

We both spent our summers working what felt like endless hours. When he wasn't laboring for cash, he was sorting out his college preparations. I, on the other hand, spent my days working and coming home to slave over my AP homework to get me ready for the next year. Although our time together was limited, we made the most of it. I tried to get every last bit of his love and affection out of him so I could carry it with me for the long road ahead. Still, I got through each day individually and tried not to think too hard about the tomorrows.

Then, it hit me.

Once my retail job and summer sports started to suck up the majority of my days, I did not realize how quickly the summer was slipping away from our hands. Before I knew it, it was the week before his family and I would drop him and what of his life he could fit in the trunk of a mini-van in a foreign place. I would let go of his hand and leave his vulnerable soul to grow, praying no one would take advantage of it. One night, as I lied in bed going through our nine months worth of pictures, I started to sob to no end. My boyfriend, my ultimate best friend in the whole world was leaving. He was going to college. It would no longer be a quick five minute trip to see him whenever I wanted. Date nights every weekend were going to turn to planned out visits once every month or so. My best friend would be three and a half hours away from me, living a new life with new people in a new place. 

I prayed that night. I prayed for everything to work out. It was going to be hard, but it was going to be our new normal. He was going to start his education and pursue what he always dreamt about. Sure, my own dreams were going to be delayed for two years, but we would eventually be on the same road again. No matter what, he was always going to be there, and no one could change that.

Welcome Weekend rolled around much too quickly. I spent the night before bawling my eyes out to the point of congestion in my ears and a throbbing pain in my chest. I got ready that morning and knew not to put on any sort of makeup, for it was going to be another tear-filled day. He was already getting his dorm situated by the time his dad, sister, and I arrived. It was so busy in that small room; there were too many people and not enough things to do. He was frustrated with everything and wanted it all to be done and settled. If you understood him like I do, you'd know that in times like these, he needs his space. Rather than overwhelm him with another body in the room, his sister and I chose to tour the campus on our own.

I barely spoke or saw him during the whole process. Finally, we all were able to sit down at a nice restaurant and gather our thoughts around the table...until college cried once again and needed him back for freshman festivities. Yet again, we were apart, but I didn't complain. Who was I to be selfish? Why would I be the one to demand attention when his family was obviously feeling the same as me? 

We all sat in his dorm as it got late and we were ready to head to our hotel. Just as we were about to say our goodbyes, an eager freshman in his hall invited him to play a game of volleyball in the hall's courtyard. He went, we watched, and we all dreaded the words that would have to be said at some point or another. After prying him away from his new acquaintances, he walked us to the car. The last hug he gave me was so painfully quick, his kiss lacking genuine feeling. It all happened so fast, and I couldn't help but feel like my relationship was going to be over very soon. College was going to get the best of him. How could I take that away?

The next day, I was a broken mess. I felt alone, lost, and companionless. All I wanted to do was sit in my shower until my body turned to a prune and cry and cry and cry some more. I screamed when I cried to get out all of my pain and emotion that plagued me. I was being succumbed by a force that was greater than me, one that was out to damage me for good.

My friends insisted I go to a small house party that night. I felt it was a good way to clear my head of things. I mean, he hadn't spoken to me all day. I understood why not: He was trying to familiarize himself with the surroundings. He was busy meeting people and scoping out the dining hall. I was just being selfish. I gladly accepted the invitation and was excited to spend a night with the people who didn't know what was going on in my head, but knew that I was in a rough patch in my life. I loosened up, had a few shots, and started to feel warm and free. Three shots turned to five, then five turned into the entire bottle of Raspberry Smirnoff. I was obsessed with the feeling of numbness, but what did I need to numb? This was temporary pain, or so I thought. This would pass after everything adjusted...right? 

I woke up the next morning, passed out on my friend's couch, wearing the same outfit I had on the night before. My head hurt, but not as much as my heart. I didn't want to face reality again. I woke up and he still wasn't here. He wasn't going to come back until the holidays. I looked in my phone, ready to text him, when a plethora of drunk texts flooded my phone. Why was I doing this? I was being so desperate and self-absorbed; I wanted everything to be about me and I wanted him to miss me, love me, pity me for being alone, when I really wasn't. I was only isolated within my thoughts, but those became to heavy and overbearing for me to handle. 

It felt like a knife through my temple. It hurt everywhere and I was paralyzed. I woke up each morning thinking I had acquired strength and acceptance, but my strength and happiness was two hundred miles away. Never wanting to admit it, I finally went to seek help for my feelings. I was depressed, but I didn't want to be a labeled basket-case. I was anxious, but I didn't want to seem like a nervous-wreck. I was problematic, but I didn't want him to think I wasn't strong enough to handle this.

This leads me to today. I sit here, typing this, medicated on my daily dosage of Celexa. He wasn't the reason for this, or any of this really. I instilled my happiness into someone potentially temporary. I don't suggest you do the same.