Proverbs
Smash Lord
Introduction: This is a story that I wrote for my fiction class, however, it's more like 85% truth. I changed some of the details and made things more dramatic, typically to match the way I felt rather than the way things happened. Oh, and 90% of this is before I was a Christian, so please, don't take this as an example of Christian living, because this was a dark period in my life where I sought to mollify my own unhappiness with having girlfriends. Long story short: That didn't work. And with that, here it is:
You Were There
Do you remember Emily? Of course you do, you were there. I introduced you to her, trying to play matchmaker in an odd sort of way. She had long brown hair, it reached to the end of her waist. You met her at church. From that day on you knew that you liked her, and from that day on I knew that I did too. You were there when she chose me, but you didn’t let it bother you. You were happy. I was glad.
You were there, coaching me, when I tried to give her her first kiss. I walked her back to her house—you remember, you were there. Instead of reaching out to hug her goodbye I leaned in instead. You were there when the car came around the corner, and when she moved her head to get a better look. My lips caught only her hair. Her hair was beautiful, but I was aiming for her lips.
You were there when she broke up with me, you remembered the pain I felt. You were there when I tried calling you all of that day, needing to tell you. At the end of the night you finally picked up. You heard me crying for the first time, I remember telling you that it wasn’t the second. I didn’t have to say anything. You knew, you were there.
You remember Michaela, that one I’m sure of. You were there, after all. She had a quirky sort of smile that was oddly beautiful. You met her at church, too. You were drawing her. This one liked you, I was happy. You were glad.
But that October you started treating me differently, especially around her. All of a sudden you were putting me down of making fun of me. I didn’t understand. It hurt, but I loved you, so I didn’t say anything.
Later I met her friend Corrie. You remember her, don’t you? I liked her, and thought we both had found someone—that there was no competition. But Corrie seemed only half-interested. You know I never settled for halfs. I wanted to give up on her, but you wouldn’t let me. “No. You need to date Corrie, because I can’t like her.” I didn’t want you and Michaela to fall apart, so I did what I could, but it happened even if I tried to keep my eye on Corrie. She didn’t stop liking you, you know. It wasn’t like that.
Months later she couldn’t decide between the two of us. I didn’t know I liked her until then. We were on the phone, do you remember? The three of us. I told her to be with you. I thought it was a simple choice to make. You were better than me. I knew that—and you did too. So I said I just wanted you two to be happy, but that was a lie. I only meant you.
After you hung up you were still there. You heard her ask me if I really thought she’d be much happier with you. You heard me say yes. You were there when she chose me instead. I told you I would end things with her at one word from you. But it didn’t bother you. You told me so behind tears.
Michaela left, and you were there for that, too. It didn’t hurt as much the second time. You didn’t see me crying again. No, you tended not to see me anymore.
But you were still there for Carmen. You were there when I tried to kiss her for the first time. You knew I was determined not to miss. You were there when I planted the first kiss upon those lips of hers, letting love be the fruit of the tree that sprung between them. Her lips were so red, and her cheeks turned to match. She knew that I loved you, and she was all right with that.
Time went and time passed, you know, you were there. I’m still not sure what went wrong between her and I. One day she said she wasn’t so sure anymore. She was debating whether or not she had feelings for another guy. I knew you were there, so I tried to do the right thing. “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it never was.” You remember that saying, right? You thought it was cheesy. I loved it. But it meant that Carmen never was mine.
I don’t think I ever introduced you to Amanda. We dated right before the summer, school was coming to a close at that point. Although she said she loved me, it scared me a times. If we didn’t talk for two days she acted like it had been months. As if I’d gone off to the war and just come back. I didn’t feel good about it and wanted to end it. But I didn’t have to. You remember don’t you? You were there. She cheated on me one day with a close friend of mine. You were there when he told me what happened. I didn’t hate him for it; he was honest with me. That’s all I wanted. When I approached her, she had nothing to say. You knew I had lost confidence. I didn’t say anything to you, but I didn’t have to. You were there.
We didn’t talk that summer. You’d remember, you were there. That summer I met Veronica. Her and I had exchanged looks in the lunchroom before. “I’m not staring, honest!” I never knew we were thinking the same thing. Not until that summer.
You were there that summer evening, when her and I sat on the bench on her porch in her backyard. The air was warm, and the suspended bench swung slightly when my lips came close to hers. But I shied away. After all, you were there. I remember you being there distinctly, on that porch in the summer that we didn’t talk. I missed you, but I never said it. After all, we didn’t talk.
School began again. Veronica faded out and Katrina faded in. Not Katrina—Kat, and to me, ‘Kitten’. I don’t think you ever let me live down nicknaming her that. It bothered you. She loved it. But in the end, she proved to be not too different from Carmen. She wanted to end things between us because she didn’t know where she stood between her and another guy. She cried. I always found that odd. I was the one being broken up with, and she’s in tears? But you already know about the frustration I had. You were there.
You were there when I tried to kiss Michaela again. She was dating someone else at the time. His name was Bobby. Neither of us trusted him. You remember him. That whole day she had been pulling out what I had been suppressing, the leftover feelings I had laying cold in the corner of my heart. I knew she was pulling, and I had to try. I had to because you were there. I had to try to kiss her, and not one of those “grandma” kisses, like you said. I needed to. I needed to because you were there. But she held out a hand and stopped me, all too short of her lips. But I don’t need to tell you. You know because you were there.
You were always there, even though we stopped talking. We didn’t need to. We knew. And you knew, because you were there.
You were there when I dated a different Emily, much different than the first. She didn’t have hair down to the end of her waist. No, she didn’t at all. When I went to kiss her I didn’t catch her hair instead—she was much different than the first. Do you remember that one night? Of course you do, you were there. Emily and I nearly had sex. We were on my couch together. But I couldn’t, because you were there. I couldn’t stand her after that, knowing that you were there. You know I didn’t love her. You knew because you were there.
And when I met Lauren, lamely asking her if that was her natural hair color, you were there too. You were there when I broke our phone record while talking with her. Seven and a half hours. One more than us. I regretted that since. After she had left and she was with another, you two had kissed. It didn’t bother me. You knew so; you were there.
But then came a time when you weren’t there anymore. With Tory and Stephanie, you weren’t there at all. Not at all. I was alone and you weren’t there. I looked for you but I couldn’t find you. You had me worried. You wore a heart monitor in those days. You had cut yourself so much that you’d pass out consistently from low blood pressure. The doctor’s wanted to see how your heart responded when you passed out, and so you wore one in school. It killed me to look at it. You weren’t there and no one saw that but me.
You weren’t there that one day on the train in New York when I talked with Kristen for the first time. Sitting next to each other on the train, I told her all about you. I remained collected, and yet when I looked over at her, her eyes were welling up. She was beautiful and I loved her at that moment. Not because she was beautiful. Not because she was kind. Not because she was the most pure-hearted girl I’ve met in my life, and still believe that today. No, I loved her because she knew you weren’t there—she felt it. I loved her because she cried the tears I couldn’t. I couldn’t because you weren’t there.
Months later I had to tell you about her, because you weren’t there that one day on the train in New York. I didn’t tell you what I told her, I didn’t tell you that she cried, I just told you about all of the things that didn’t make me love her. I wasn’t sure you’d understand, because you weren’t there.
And when I found out that Kristen wasn’t interested in me, you still weren’t there. I had to tell you. Do you remember? You wouldn’t, you weren’t there. Even when my love for her persisted, I needed to tell you. You didn’t know, because you weren’t there.
You weren’t there even when I was with you. We stood by each other, that one day, do you remember? I shouldn’t expect you to, you weren’t there. We stood there and didn’t speak, surrounded by people. People you knew, people I didn’t. We stood there, fifteen minutes passed and neither of us said a word.
It’s sad sometimes when words fail you. When “I love you” doesn’t convey what it should. When silent din overtakes the room and no one can hear a word.
There was a day when words used to work. Those were the days when you were still there. I didn’t need to say anything, and you knew. And even when I did, you still knew. You knew because you were there.
EDIT: 4/17: Today's his birthday.
You Were There
Do you remember Emily? Of course you do, you were there. I introduced you to her, trying to play matchmaker in an odd sort of way. She had long brown hair, it reached to the end of her waist. You met her at church. From that day on you knew that you liked her, and from that day on I knew that I did too. You were there when she chose me, but you didn’t let it bother you. You were happy. I was glad.
You were there, coaching me, when I tried to give her her first kiss. I walked her back to her house—you remember, you were there. Instead of reaching out to hug her goodbye I leaned in instead. You were there when the car came around the corner, and when she moved her head to get a better look. My lips caught only her hair. Her hair was beautiful, but I was aiming for her lips.
You were there when she broke up with me, you remembered the pain I felt. You were there when I tried calling you all of that day, needing to tell you. At the end of the night you finally picked up. You heard me crying for the first time, I remember telling you that it wasn’t the second. I didn’t have to say anything. You knew, you were there.
You remember Michaela, that one I’m sure of. You were there, after all. She had a quirky sort of smile that was oddly beautiful. You met her at church, too. You were drawing her. This one liked you, I was happy. You were glad.
But that October you started treating me differently, especially around her. All of a sudden you were putting me down of making fun of me. I didn’t understand. It hurt, but I loved you, so I didn’t say anything.
Later I met her friend Corrie. You remember her, don’t you? I liked her, and thought we both had found someone—that there was no competition. But Corrie seemed only half-interested. You know I never settled for halfs. I wanted to give up on her, but you wouldn’t let me. “No. You need to date Corrie, because I can’t like her.” I didn’t want you and Michaela to fall apart, so I did what I could, but it happened even if I tried to keep my eye on Corrie. She didn’t stop liking you, you know. It wasn’t like that.
Months later she couldn’t decide between the two of us. I didn’t know I liked her until then. We were on the phone, do you remember? The three of us. I told her to be with you. I thought it was a simple choice to make. You were better than me. I knew that—and you did too. So I said I just wanted you two to be happy, but that was a lie. I only meant you.
After you hung up you were still there. You heard her ask me if I really thought she’d be much happier with you. You heard me say yes. You were there when she chose me instead. I told you I would end things with her at one word from you. But it didn’t bother you. You told me so behind tears.
Michaela left, and you were there for that, too. It didn’t hurt as much the second time. You didn’t see me crying again. No, you tended not to see me anymore.
But you were still there for Carmen. You were there when I tried to kiss her for the first time. You knew I was determined not to miss. You were there when I planted the first kiss upon those lips of hers, letting love be the fruit of the tree that sprung between them. Her lips were so red, and her cheeks turned to match. She knew that I loved you, and she was all right with that.
Time went and time passed, you know, you were there. I’m still not sure what went wrong between her and I. One day she said she wasn’t so sure anymore. She was debating whether or not she had feelings for another guy. I knew you were there, so I tried to do the right thing. “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it’s yours. If not, it never was.” You remember that saying, right? You thought it was cheesy. I loved it. But it meant that Carmen never was mine.
I don’t think I ever introduced you to Amanda. We dated right before the summer, school was coming to a close at that point. Although she said she loved me, it scared me a times. If we didn’t talk for two days she acted like it had been months. As if I’d gone off to the war and just come back. I didn’t feel good about it and wanted to end it. But I didn’t have to. You remember don’t you? You were there. She cheated on me one day with a close friend of mine. You were there when he told me what happened. I didn’t hate him for it; he was honest with me. That’s all I wanted. When I approached her, she had nothing to say. You knew I had lost confidence. I didn’t say anything to you, but I didn’t have to. You were there.
We didn’t talk that summer. You’d remember, you were there. That summer I met Veronica. Her and I had exchanged looks in the lunchroom before. “I’m not staring, honest!” I never knew we were thinking the same thing. Not until that summer.
You were there that summer evening, when her and I sat on the bench on her porch in her backyard. The air was warm, and the suspended bench swung slightly when my lips came close to hers. But I shied away. After all, you were there. I remember you being there distinctly, on that porch in the summer that we didn’t talk. I missed you, but I never said it. After all, we didn’t talk.
School began again. Veronica faded out and Katrina faded in. Not Katrina—Kat, and to me, ‘Kitten’. I don’t think you ever let me live down nicknaming her that. It bothered you. She loved it. But in the end, she proved to be not too different from Carmen. She wanted to end things between us because she didn’t know where she stood between her and another guy. She cried. I always found that odd. I was the one being broken up with, and she’s in tears? But you already know about the frustration I had. You were there.
You were there when I tried to kiss Michaela again. She was dating someone else at the time. His name was Bobby. Neither of us trusted him. You remember him. That whole day she had been pulling out what I had been suppressing, the leftover feelings I had laying cold in the corner of my heart. I knew she was pulling, and I had to try. I had to because you were there. I had to try to kiss her, and not one of those “grandma” kisses, like you said. I needed to. I needed to because you were there. But she held out a hand and stopped me, all too short of her lips. But I don’t need to tell you. You know because you were there.
You were always there, even though we stopped talking. We didn’t need to. We knew. And you knew, because you were there.
You were there when I dated a different Emily, much different than the first. She didn’t have hair down to the end of her waist. No, she didn’t at all. When I went to kiss her I didn’t catch her hair instead—she was much different than the first. Do you remember that one night? Of course you do, you were there. Emily and I nearly had sex. We were on my couch together. But I couldn’t, because you were there. I couldn’t stand her after that, knowing that you were there. You know I didn’t love her. You knew because you were there.
And when I met Lauren, lamely asking her if that was her natural hair color, you were there too. You were there when I broke our phone record while talking with her. Seven and a half hours. One more than us. I regretted that since. After she had left and she was with another, you two had kissed. It didn’t bother me. You knew so; you were there.
But then came a time when you weren’t there anymore. With Tory and Stephanie, you weren’t there at all. Not at all. I was alone and you weren’t there. I looked for you but I couldn’t find you. You had me worried. You wore a heart monitor in those days. You had cut yourself so much that you’d pass out consistently from low blood pressure. The doctor’s wanted to see how your heart responded when you passed out, and so you wore one in school. It killed me to look at it. You weren’t there and no one saw that but me.
You weren’t there that one day on the train in New York when I talked with Kristen for the first time. Sitting next to each other on the train, I told her all about you. I remained collected, and yet when I looked over at her, her eyes were welling up. She was beautiful and I loved her at that moment. Not because she was beautiful. Not because she was kind. Not because she was the most pure-hearted girl I’ve met in my life, and still believe that today. No, I loved her because she knew you weren’t there—she felt it. I loved her because she cried the tears I couldn’t. I couldn’t because you weren’t there.
Months later I had to tell you about her, because you weren’t there that one day on the train in New York. I didn’t tell you what I told her, I didn’t tell you that she cried, I just told you about all of the things that didn’t make me love her. I wasn’t sure you’d understand, because you weren’t there.
And when I found out that Kristen wasn’t interested in me, you still weren’t there. I had to tell you. Do you remember? You wouldn’t, you weren’t there. Even when my love for her persisted, I needed to tell you. You didn’t know, because you weren’t there.
You weren’t there even when I was with you. We stood by each other, that one day, do you remember? I shouldn’t expect you to, you weren’t there. We stood there and didn’t speak, surrounded by people. People you knew, people I didn’t. We stood there, fifteen minutes passed and neither of us said a word.
It’s sad sometimes when words fail you. When “I love you” doesn’t convey what it should. When silent din overtakes the room and no one can hear a word.
There was a day when words used to work. Those were the days when you were still there. I didn’t need to say anything, and you knew. And even when I did, you still knew. You knew because you were there.
EDIT: 4/17: Today's his birthday.