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      A million tears for him


When I entered my freshman year of highschool, it was right after three long years of utter hell. I was a prime target for love; and love found me.

I had fallen into a new group of friends, as sometimes happens in highschool, and "Jake" was a member of that group. He was on the football team, tall, muscular, tanned, dark eyes framed by long thick lashes... he was like a fantasy that stepped right out my heart. And when he opened his mouth and talked to me, there was nothing I wanted more than to just be near him.

Jake showed so much interest in me, it blew me away. I never would consider myself an ugly girl, but me, with a popular jock? It was like an amazing fairy tale come true. I got caught up in it, and before I knew it, I was his girlfriend.

The both of us were only fourteen when Jake called me on the phone and told me he loved me. I told him I felt the exact same way. There was nothing I needed more at that time in my life than to be loved, and to be loved by Jake was wonderful. I went to his football games wearing his jersey, cheering him on. People I didn't know greeted me. Boys more popular than Jake congratulated him on how cute I was. It was what every girl secretly wishes for.

But in front of my friends, Jake called me chubby, "funny looking'" made fun of my clothes... and I laughed it off, until one day I asked him to stop. He never really did. When when we were alone he loved me more than he could describe with words... I fell for it.

When Jake and I had been going out for only five months, I gave myself to him in the most intimate way a women can give every inch of herself to a man. But I wasn't a woman, and Jake wasn't a man... we were both still barely fifteen, and it was more than either of us could handle. Jake became emotionally abusive to me, with his new ex virgin status and football player popularity, he saw himself as a Greek god. And I still loved him. And he loved me. He told me every time we were alone together, and he swore on my life (of course it had to be MINE) that even after we broke up, we would be best friends, forever no matter what.

A little over a year after Jake and I became a couple, he broke up with me. I was sixteen years old, thought myself to be intimately involved with the guy who would grow into the man I was going to greet at the end of the aisle of some day. When he broke up with me, his excuse was that he didn't love me anymore. My world shattered. A couple of weeks later, Jake came over and brought up the idea of us being "friends with benefits." I loved and missed him so much, I thought I needed him, so I readily agreed to anything he wanted. Afterward, Jake would croon to me about how I was his best friend, and always would be his best friend, no matter what.

This went on for about a year. When Jake and I were at school, he said hi, casually flirted, treated me like all the other girls... while inside I screamed. I wasn't like all the other girls. One night I had just come home from the hospital after being severely dehydrated and Jake came over to try and make me feel better. I was sick, lying in bed in my pyjamas, a bucket on the floor next to the bed, when Jake came in and lowered his pants. I muttered a no weakly, and Jake said he just wanted oral stimulation... he was being nice.
"No..." I said. I felt nauseous. "This... this has to stop... ok?" I asked imploringly. Jake zippered his pants. "Yeah, sure... feel better, ok?" He left.

A week later, Jake, my first love, my best friend, my "soul mate" stopped talking to me. My heart seemed to stop. I walked around in a fog. I couldn't believe how wrong he had done me. Till this day, I miss him. I wake up wishing his arms were around me. I jump when the phone rings, wishing it were him on the other end of the line. Jake ruined a part of me, hurt me somewhere to deep to ever really heal. And I know its partly my fault, but sometimes, when we love something so much, it becomes something wonderful, something it isn't, and when our very lives depend on being loved, will do anything it takes to feel that love... even if we're just physically reliving a memory.


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