the hardest of hearts

I’ve been very reflective recently. It kind of scares me as I keep drifting toward topics I would rather not think of.

About three years ago a lot major things happened to me in March. I lost a man that wasn’t my father, but he held the title of dad. He was what I deserved in a dad. I also realized I really liked a boy. It was the first boy I had ever actually liked.

Its curious to think that you can lose something but get something else from life. At this point in my life now, I have neither of those things.

I wonder if my uncle would be proud of me. I remember when I was graduating from the eighth grade, I asked him to come. He told me he wouldn’t. Not to that graduation. He said he would come to my high school graduation, only he didn’t make it. He died March 2014. My sophomore year of high school. When I did graduate high schools and I walked out into my gymnasium, tears pooled into my eyes. I didn’t let myself cry, not in front of those people. They would had thought I was crying because I was graduating. I had no reason to cry about that.

I wanted my uncle to see me walk across that stage and get my diploma. I wanted him to be proud. I remember him saying he would even slick his hair back. You see, that was a joke I had with him. When my sister graduated high school, I was pretty young. She’s eleven years older than me.  I was sitting beside my uncle and I noticed his hair. I stood up and I said, “You have hairspray in your hair!”

Everyone around me looked, and my uncle became very embarrassed. I didn’t realize at the time he had hair gel in his hair. It had looked like hairspray. I remember that day so clear. I was so close to my uncle, and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. I guess with the anniversary, I’ve been thinking more often through the day.

During March 2014, I also realized I had a crush on my former boyfriend. He was the first boy I had actually liked. I didn’t meet him in March; I met him in August. That year, my high school decided to switch the course curriculum for history. It lead to the sophomores and juniors taking the same class. We had the same history class, and I don’t remember seeing him that first day of class; he says he remembers me though. I remember the first group project in the class, and we were partners. I was very passive aggressive about the whole thing. He wasn’t being helpful at all, so I was not pleased. I complained about him, but I was polite to him.

I didn’t like him at all then. I thought he was annoying, unhelpful little snot. He started talking to me, and we became great friends. It was in March I realized I liked him, and it was in November that I lost him. I see him now, and all I see is one of the few people capable of breaking my heart.

First it was my uncle when I lost him, and then almost three years later, it was him.

 

Love,

E. E.

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