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      Tragic Love


I am a senior in high school and met my first love nearly two years ago. Our lengthy relationship was built as the result of, and was often sustained by tragedy. It's true what they say, that a relationship often ends exactly the way it begins.

Our relationship began when he moved to my town for a fresh start after going through some awful things. Just when he thought his new life was beginning, one of his parents committed suicide. It was the first tragedy our relationship endured. We had gone through many similar events, and though we had somewhat of a stormy relationship, we always found our way back to one another. We were inseparable for the first year and a half...especially during this time. I kept him from his own suicide once, though he has told me to die.

I became his number one support system. ( which I didn't mind) If anyone has ever heard the quote from "Titanic" of 'You jump, I jump' well, that was us. Except, toward the end something changed in him. He expected me to catch him, to hold him up and be his crutch. If I "jumped" he would laugh and let me fall. He never physically harmed me, (maybe a shove here and there) but he would often say hurtful things. He would call me a whore, when we both knew I was so far from that.

Towards the last few months of our relationship, two boys from our school died in an awful accident. We both knew these two individuals. I was driving him to school and almost crashed myself when his cell rang and we got the news. We stopped fighting that week. As I said, tragedy often made us kinder...or rather...him kinder. Then the disrespect would pick up again.

Just two weeks after these boys died, I lost a close family member. We were fighting all week, and immediately once I told him, the fighting stopped. After the funeral, I spent the day at his house. He held me for hours in his bed, and I was mute for a while. I hadn't cried at the funeral. I didn't think I had any tears left. It took me hours to finally cry, but he was there.

Summer came soon, and the year full of death finally ended. One of the last memories I have of us is sitting out a storm in my car with him crying in my arms because I'd ended it a week ago. He'd had me worried enough for his safety that I came to see him. We both went back to his house and he looked me straight in the eyes and said "I am so sorry for ever hurting you." I immediately fell for it and gave him one last chance...dont ask me why.

Almost two months later the big "sorry" ceased to have a meaning. Day by day things got worse. He went back to his old ways, and I left one last time.


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