Finally Clean

 "You have your demons and darling they all look like me." 

Reader, you might have guessed that I am a Taylor Swift fan. I fit all of the qualifications. I'm a teenage girl in America with a lot thoughts and that pretty much sums up that list. As I was going about my day and the song, "Sad Beautiful Tragic" began to play. This song must have a mind of it's own, because it decided to slap me in the face with rude, locked away memories that go untouched for many reasons. I want to unlock them just for a moment and share some of them with you today. 

Once a girl met a boy. The first day of freshman year she was nervous and prepared to dominate the school. She wanted to prove to everyone that she was friendly and kind. She wanted to prove how much she could offer to everyone, but especially him. When she saw him for the first time, she knew. She knew that something big was about to change in her life. He knew it too. They instantly connected, did the classic exchange of phone numbers and Snapchats, then went on with their lives not knowing the impact they had allowed to happened right under their noses.

A week passed of eating lunch together, sitting next to each other every chance they could, and the "it's not serious" stares. When he said he didn't want a relationship, she moved on to the next. You see, they were both what you'd call, "serial daters". She lived her life pretending nothing mattered but inevitably cried over every single boy no matter what, then healed the pain with a new one. He did just the same. They were the most perfectly terrible match in history. A few weeks later, she hatched a plan to get her revenge. She decided to get him interested again, and then dump him just like he did to her.

She succeeded in her endeavors, but what she didn't expect was the regret that came later. She missed him, and realized that what she did was wrong. So they got back together. Ladies and gentleman, this cycle lasted a year. A year of liking and hating each other. A year of fighting and being friends. A year of dating other people, yet always finding their way back to each other. A year of sadness and a year of beauty, that both needed their tragic ending. She believed every word he said, he fell for all of her tricks, and with every minute spent apart they grew closer. 

The year bled into Sophomore year. As the seasons changed, so did their hearts. The "meaningless" flings turned more serious. Their spitefulness turned into love. Every time he left he took a piece of her with him, and she always let him. When she realized she was in love, she turned into a real Noah Calhoun. She wrote letters to him that filled her journal, cried for him every night, and waited impatiently for his return. When he came once again, he came with news. He was leaving their school. 

The pain shot through her like a needle. Waves like the ocean crashed over her mind, fogging every thought. On his last day, they reunited for the last time. Even though they never said it, she knew deep down that she would never see him again. She told him she loved him that day, and even when he said it back she knew that he didn't mean it. In her journal that night she wrote, "This could be the worst thing that's ever happened to me, or the best." 

Over the next few months, the pain she felt was indescribable. When she walked through the halls, his empty ghost followed her. She could only hope she haunted him the same way. She still wrote him letters, and only dreamed of sending them. One day, he texted and got his girl back. He hurt her. He made the lowest and most pointed blow at her that he possibly could. She left him like she used to at the beginning, because she finally realized that even though she loved him they could never be together. They were always designed to be apart. They were destined to just be a lesson learned.

I have to say, that it really was a lesson learned. Not all love stories have a happy ending. Trusting your instincts leads to good. As I listened to "Sad Beautiful Tragic", the lyrics really resonated with me. The truth is, the boy has no way of contacting me. He will never read this. Funnily enough, his name is now a curse word among my friends. He loved me as much as I loved him, and I can only hope he's com to the same conclusion I did.

It was a long time ago. The wounds have healed and the love has passed. First loves are always hurtful, but they are firsts for a reason. There is more love to come. I'm already feeling it now. For example, the love I share with my friends and family has wrapped me up in a warm hug to replace the shallow cold left by him. That is a blessing I will always cherish. This post is the last letter I will ever write to him, and his memory will finally leave me. In the wise words of Taylor Swift, "When I was drowning , that's when I could finally breathe. By morning, gone was any trace of you I think I am finally clean."