I was going to… “told” I was going to be a straight A student. I was going to go to college, graduate, and have an excellent, fulfilling and good paying career. I was going to find a nice, young, good looking christian man, my prince to marry and lose my virginity to and have babies. I was going to be a fashion designer, I was going to be an Olympic Ice Skater. I was going to be a famous author. I was going to travel the world, be fluent in Spanish, and backpack around Europe. I was going to space. I was going to be a violinist. I was going to be in a band. I was going to change the world. I was going to live the American Dream. I was told I could do anything I put my mind to, that I would just have to believe it, and it would just somehow ‘happen.’ Out of no where. I don’t know, maybe that’s why I never went anywhere, because I just waited for things to happen magically without actually doing. What did I expect it to be? I. Love. D. I don’t know what I expected it to be. It just happened so fast. A feeling I’d never felt before. Maybe I expected more, but deep down I knew it wouldn’t be forever. I did expect it to last longer than it did. But in hindsight, I’m glad it didn’t.
But I didn’t… I didn’t plan for him to find another girl so fast. I didn’t plan on him breaking my heart in half. I didn’t plan on dropping out of college through this. And turning to chemicals to numb myself and be able to fall asleep. I didn’t plan on moving out of my best friends’s. I didn’t plan on getting so emotionally involved that I couldn’t think about anything else, do anything else. It still takes up a lot of my ind, 2 years later, almost like an obsession. Especially with what I’m going through currently. I wish it didn’t happen at all sometimes. That I never met him. That my mom didn’t take me to that party that night. I didn’t plan on falling in love with him, to let my whole being, revolve around him. For him to end up fucking her. Marrying her. Having twins with her. Leaving me in the dust. It makes me sick writing about it. I literally vomited the first time he told me about it. I knew something was up, too. And I was all the way in Fort Collins, at my cousin’s house whom I barely knew because I “had” to move out of my place. It made me physically ill. Shaking uncontrollably. Why did I still talk to him? I didn’t plan on still being attached to him.