Content Warning: This is going to be emotional, and possibly cringe-worthy. But I don't care. My life is now a Taylor Swift song.
This is a narrative in which the girl does not get the boy. They do not live happily ever after. Their interpretations do not match. I thought long and hard about even publishing this, but narrative are tricky. Especially when they involve yourself.
When I was in the seventh grade I saw Tyler playing basketball in our church gym. I swore I would end up with him. He was tall, had the most beautiful blue-green eyes, and the kind of personality that made you pay attention: all charisma, all good-natured humor. Soon enough, he moved to Oklahoma, and we stayed in contact for years off and on. Fast forward to our senior year of high school, and he tells me he's moving back to Texas, and asking if I want to hang out. My obvious answer was yes. Fast forward a few months, and we were dating. Seventh grade Allyson's dreams came true.
We endured long distance for a while. I was staying in Texas to go to college at DBU, and he was going to Wyoming to go to Wyotech for nine months. We survived. When he returned, we picked up where we left off. Giggles, dates, kisses at red lights, and talks of marriage and kids someday. Later on the next year, I left for 2 months to intern in London. We survived that, too. Nobody thought two kids like us could handle being apart so much of our relationship, but our relationship was built on trust, love, and a mutual desire for a future together.
I am not going to sugarcoat this. Our relationship had problems that I will not go into for the sake of protection, both on his parts and mine. We were not as "perfect" as everyone thought we were. There was a lot of hurt, dishonesty, and betrayal that went on the five years we were together. I thought we could work it out. I knew that relationships were hard. I also thought if you loved someone hard enough, they would want to stay and work it out. But some things can't be worked out and sometimes the damage is too much to get past.
In this narrative, I was going to marry him. My high school sweetheart and first real love was going to make it work. We were going to be happier than ever, and we would have a beautiful story to tell. And while I will never regret anything about my relationship with him, I am still incredibly sad. You see, in my interpretation in my own life narrative, we would be fine, everything would be okay. You just have to love them and all will fall into place. His interpretation was more or less the opposite. Now I'm learning that you can love someone all you want to, and they can love you, but sometimes love just isn't enough to make something work. Maybe that's okay. It doesn't feel okay. Hearing, "I'll always love you, you're the first one I've ever really loved" doesn't help. I wanted to be the last. I suppose I'm a hopeless romantic in that way. I wanted to keep the red light kisses, dancing to Lee DeWyze in parking lots, and Mario Kart competitions. But life isn't fair and it sure as hell isn't the fairy-tales my Memaw told me before nap time when I was little.
So here's to moving on and here's to healing. I'm told time can heal most anything, so I take it day by day. No one warns you that heartbreak hurts so physically; that you can feel it in your chest and it's really hard to breathe. And your eyes will burn from all the tears you're not sure how you have in the first place. No one warned me that the love of my life would break my heart. So, for now I will blast Taylor Swift's All Too Well on repeat, because obviously it's about me. And I'll be okay soon enough. Because I have to be. Because I am strong and resilient, even though I don't feel that way sometimes. And one day I'll meet someone whose interpretation of the narrative of relationships will match mine, and I'll get my happily-ever-after. Maybe.
https://youtu.be/MK06eIpbLSI
This is a narrative in which the girl does not get the boy. They do not live happily ever after. Their interpretations do not match. I thought long and hard about even publishing this, but narrative are tricky. Especially when they involve yourself.
When I was in the seventh grade I saw Tyler playing basketball in our church gym. I swore I would end up with him. He was tall, had the most beautiful blue-green eyes, and the kind of personality that made you pay attention: all charisma, all good-natured humor. Soon enough, he moved to Oklahoma, and we stayed in contact for years off and on. Fast forward to our senior year of high school, and he tells me he's moving back to Texas, and asking if I want to hang out. My obvious answer was yes. Fast forward a few months, and we were dating. Seventh grade Allyson's dreams came true.
We endured long distance for a while. I was staying in Texas to go to college at DBU, and he was going to Wyoming to go to Wyotech for nine months. We survived. When he returned, we picked up where we left off. Giggles, dates, kisses at red lights, and talks of marriage and kids someday. Later on the next year, I left for 2 months to intern in London. We survived that, too. Nobody thought two kids like us could handle being apart so much of our relationship, but our relationship was built on trust, love, and a mutual desire for a future together.
I am not going to sugarcoat this. Our relationship had problems that I will not go into for the sake of protection, both on his parts and mine. We were not as "perfect" as everyone thought we were. There was a lot of hurt, dishonesty, and betrayal that went on the five years we were together. I thought we could work it out. I knew that relationships were hard. I also thought if you loved someone hard enough, they would want to stay and work it out. But some things can't be worked out and sometimes the damage is too much to get past.
In this narrative, I was going to marry him. My high school sweetheart and first real love was going to make it work. We were going to be happier than ever, and we would have a beautiful story to tell. And while I will never regret anything about my relationship with him, I am still incredibly sad. You see, in my interpretation in my own life narrative, we would be fine, everything would be okay. You just have to love them and all will fall into place. His interpretation was more or less the opposite. Now I'm learning that you can love someone all you want to, and they can love you, but sometimes love just isn't enough to make something work. Maybe that's okay. It doesn't feel okay. Hearing, "I'll always love you, you're the first one I've ever really loved" doesn't help. I wanted to be the last. I suppose I'm a hopeless romantic in that way. I wanted to keep the red light kisses, dancing to Lee DeWyze in parking lots, and Mario Kart competitions. But life isn't fair and it sure as hell isn't the fairy-tales my Memaw told me before nap time when I was little.
So here's to moving on and here's to healing. I'm told time can heal most anything, so I take it day by day. No one warns you that heartbreak hurts so physically; that you can feel it in your chest and it's really hard to breathe. And your eyes will burn from all the tears you're not sure how you have in the first place. No one warned me that the love of my life would break my heart. So, for now I will blast Taylor Swift's All Too Well on repeat, because obviously it's about me. And I'll be okay soon enough. Because I have to be. Because I am strong and resilient, even though I don't feel that way sometimes. And one day I'll meet someone whose interpretation of the narrative of relationships will match mine, and I'll get my happily-ever-after. Maybe.
https://youtu.be/MK06eIpbLSI
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