Shatter – Part One

This is something I wrote many many years ago back in high school.  Gives you some perspective on our last true circle of friends and why we don’t usually allow new friends…
Names have been changed to aliases, some you may recognize, but most you won’t. We don’t talk about these people often.

-Claire
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Late Fall – 2005 – Senior year in high school

I can’t do this anymore. Let me just be absolutely, utterly honest with myself. I am miserable. I am jealous of Texas. I am green with envy. But I can’t do anything that would hurt her.

I still remember the time over the summer where Texas was having serious family problems and we all cried, but I scared myself, and everyone else was comforting her. I just withdrew. I yelled at them. At Texas. I swore that I didn’t need them. That I didn’t need anyone.

And they saw right through my feeble lie.

Texas comforted me, when she was the one who might not have a home or family to come back to. She comforted me when I was floored by GeekyBoys’s abrupt break-up with me. She convinced her mother to let her stay with me, to spend time together with chocolate and movies, along with “man-bashing” (as we so fondly called it).

Texas got me through the summer. When school started, she shared my sentiments about the horrible dastardly boring feeling of being a senior.

We are so worn into this school. Four years of the same walls around us, the same kids and teachers passing us by. It’s disgusting.

I sheltered her for a week while her parents got their crazy act together. She listened to my ramblings, my opinions, my stories.

She defended me against Germany’s digs, even though I was used to them, and I her. Germany has and always will be my best friend.

When they got into a large fight soon after school started, Texas made sure I wasn’t dragged into it.

She was respectful, and helpful, of my relationship with Uniballer. She gave me tips for the couple days I was grappling with decisions of my feelings. She squashed my concerns that there was anything between her and him.

She lied to me.

When he dumped me, she didn’t even attempt to comfort me. And less than a week later, she “asked” if it was “okay with me” if she dated Uniballer.

I almost forgave her, as she had asked. Supposedly. But she had no respect for what I said. What I truly felt. She pretended to listen quietly, then disregarded my hesitance, and released her sails. Full speed ahead.

But even with the recent pain she’s caused me, I can’t so easily cast aside the shoulder to cry on she offered, the comfort she harbored for my rainy days.

Even if she no longer possesses any of these things.

As for Uniballer, I feel mostly confusion and wariness.  The voices mostly hated him.

Sophomore year wasn’t really “mine”. I was prodded into dating him that year. I wasn’t ready. He managed some nasty brainwashing and some physical things I was not ready for.  It stung when he broke up with me, in a strangely detached way (though the voices rejoiced for weeks).  I wasn’t good enough. But that was nothing new.

This year though…was completely different.  I wasn’t sure at first, as I remembered his easy casual attitude about dating. I couldn’t be so nonchalant.  I remembered the way he destroyed girls like tissue paper.

So he spent two weeks proving that I was different. And he had changed.  He wanted a truly loving relationship.
Writing me poems, bringing me flowers. Even taking me out on little “non-official dates”. Convincing me that I was not like the other girls. That I was worth all that time that he could have easily gotten another girl to go out with him instantly.  That I was worth him forgetting his nasty ways.

And I was thoroughly charmed and brainwashed (even as the voices raged). I agreed to date him. It seemed so magical for weeks following.  He had changed. The voices even relented a bit, surprised themselves.

Until the rumors.

He did spend time with Texas a lot. Over the weekends when I was busy. But I trusted him. I trusted her. Still, I started questioning them with what tiny of amount of doubt I had. I didn’t feel valued anymore. I withdrew. Texas’s family problems reared their ugly head again. I blamed my distance on that. I found things to criticize Uniballer about. Further cover-up for my pulling away, inside myself.

He wasn’t happy.  He was still the nasty boy we knew.  He punished.  I have to acknowledge that. He demanded why I make him act like this. Of course, I couldn’t answer without sounding like a doubting, terribly possessive and suspicious girlfriend. I made things up. I lost time and I pushed him away.

Then he pushed back.

This wasn’t sophomore year. I didn’t just get stung. I was shoved to the floor, stepped on, and laughed at. I felt my suspicions had been confirmed. I was no more important than any other girl. He hadn’t changed at all.  For all the kind, tender ways he captured me, he so carelessly broke me into tiny pieces and swept me under the rug, hidden from view.

Then he took up with Texas.

Further conformation of the dark rumor that had been eating away at me. I was ignored further. By both of them.

The self-harming and eating disorder reared it’s head as Victoria and Midori tagged teamed with the body.

Then Charlotte got fed up and stepped in. She went straight to Uniballer and gave it to him straight. Bluntly. That I hadn’t really let go. Told him how infatuated I still was. I am. Made me sound like a swooning girl from a soap opera. Then told him what a shitbag he was and how it was so good that he was a cheating piss of a man. Bragged about all the nastiness he was going to miss out on.

He reversed faster than a race car, realizing slightly what he did. Gave me the option of him breaking up with Texas.

I couldn’t allow that.

First of all, it was unfair and cruel to Texas.

And secondly, I couldn’t get rid of that black creature of doubt that nibbled at me sporadically. Not realizing it was Rika crooning in my head. Telling me that maybe he had offered this particular opportunity to Texas, to other girls, in order to break up with me. My feeling of importance he had built so long ago disappeared.

He turned up the manipulation.  He and I started hanging out. Alone. He had insisted, so we- well, so I, wouldn’t be so uneasy around him. At first we just talked, made jokes. Then he began to get more affectionate. I began to accept it. I would even cuddle back, to a degree.
I wasn’t a block of ice. Even with how much I wanted to be. But I wouldn’t do anything more than light cuddling.  Charlotte tried, but she was restrained.

Two factors held us back.

I value fidelity. Faithfulness. Some sense of actually loyalty. What we were doing was akin to cheating. Not actually, but close enough that I was uncomfortable. And guilty. Even though a possessive side of me said that he was still technically mine. Of course, that primal, animalistic side doesn’t understand breaking up. Mate for life, you know?

Another problem was that damn creature of doubt that dwelled within me. The immediate question that sprung to mind:

How faithful was he to me when we were together? Did he cuddle with Texas, or someone else so easily? If we were to get back together, how faithful would he be?  We he resort to the the nasty side again?

It’s amazing how many songs you can find to sympathize with your problems, if you really look. Especially relationship issues. I made an entire play list with more than thirty songs, that at least related to my dilemma.

My best friend, Germany, played the reasonable voice. She had much in common with the nasty creature that made me falter so frequently. She comforted me, but at the same time, told me how much better off I was. And to never, ever, go back to him. How I would be in a constant back and forth game if I did.

I understood this. It made absolute sense.

But when does the heart listen to sense?

I pretended to listen to her advice, even asked her to actively stop me from trying to date him again if I ever tried. But I refused everything she said in my mind. And eventually, told her she wouldn’t be able to stop if I really wanted to go back…

She accepted gracefully. She would accept no blame if I screwed up again, but I expected that. She was well used to my fuck-ups at this point.

I knew I had to screw up for myself, or I would never learn. No amount of convincing verbally would persuade me.

Germany was sweet though. She tried to formulate a plan to hook me up with another guy, to make me forget. Hell, she would even try to convince me it was to make Uniballer jealous.

But of course, I didn’t want another guy.

And I think she knew this. Somewhere. Even if she wasn’t saying anything aloud. And will still try to shove me back on my feet. And I love her for this.

She’s my best friend for a reason.

Katherine, on the other hand, was trying to understand everything I said. Sympathize with every word. She’d gone through exactly the same thing.

Except…she hadn’t.

This was my problem alone. I didn’t want sympathy. I didn’t make this clear, and that’s my fault, but I wanted no words of “Oh, I understand perfectly. It’s horrible, isn’t it?”, like my feelings were a common occurrence. Normally this might help, yes. But not now.

Katherine told me to fight my way back to him. Texas would be fine. She’d find someone else. Uniballer and I were meant to be together. Like she could see it. I felt confused. If Katherine could see it so clearly, why couldn’t I? And why couldn’t I just hurt Texas like she hurt me? It was only fair, right?

Not that I’m trying to sound like an angel. I’m no angel. Sure, I don’t get angry as easily as some of my friends. In fact, I pride myself in my ability to rarely ever get mad.

And we’re back to the not hurting Texas issue.

It’s a circle. A damn unsolvable circle.

I can’t do this anymore.
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I’ll upload more in a bit…

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