fairys_wings
06-13-2004, 05:52 PM
Please Sign My Yearbook
Sitting in class, I concentrated on the back of Brian's neck. Evil thoughts filled my mind; I was secretly waiting for his head to explode. It didn't, and I was forced to watch my ex-boyfriend laugh and chat with every person in the room while he blatantly ignored me.
After Brian and I broke up, third period became pure torture. While I was still nursing what Iconsidered to be the worlds worst broken heart, I was bombarded with the sight of my ex's excessive flirting, as if he were proving to me that he was obviously over his heartache. During class, Brian would gossip loudly about his weekend, his latest party and his new car.
Maybe Brian was trying to get back at me for breaking off our six-month relationship. Maybe he thought that if he looked happy, it would hurt me more than I had hurt him.
At the end of our relationship, I let him cry on my shoulder but held a strong heart as he begged me not to go. Of course, he covered his pain very well at school, as if our tearful good-bye had never occurred.
Immediately after the breakup, Brian started dating another girl. She was graduating that spring, as if that were a big feat for a junior-year boy. She took him to the prom and announced it right beside me in math class. I, too, had a date for the prom but it still hurt. My hurt curled and turned to anger. It felt like he was trying to upset me, trying to rub his happiness in my face. Everytime I saw them together, I wanted to scream. It felt like the pain was going to tear me in half, or at least force me to consider tearing her in half.
School was coming to an end, and I eagerly waited for summer vacation, my savior. No more Algebra Two and that gnawing feeling in my stomache each day.
One day in dreaded third period, Brian leaned over to me, and to my surprise, he asked me to sign his yearbook. I most have sat there a full minute before I got over the shock and said yes.
I thought th myself" This is my chance". I could really let him have it! I could tell him that I knew what he was was doing, that he was trying to hurt me, and that it wasn't fair. I could tell him that I saw through his act, that he and I both knew it was exactly that, an act. But then it hit me, what good would come of that? Would belittling him make me feel better, or would it just perpetate the pain that we both needed to recover from?
Instead of writing the pain I had endured, I listed all of the fun times we had shared. I wrote about the the first place we kissed, the gifts he had given me, the lessons I had learned--the ones he had tought me--and the first " I love you" that was wispered between us. It took up one page, and that quickly became two, until my hand was tired of writing. There were still a million more memmories crowding the corner of my mind, and I remembered many more throughout the day. It made me realize the things I learned from him and what great experiences we had shared. I finished by elling him I held no hard feelings, and I hoped he felt the same.
Maybe what I wrote in his yearbook made me look weak, maybe he thought I was pathetic for still holding onto the memories of our rolationship. But writing all those things helped me; it helped me heal the wounds that still hurt in my heart. It felt liberating to let go of the grudge; I finally felt free from my anger.
I realized that Brian had taught me one final lesson: forgiveness. Someday, when he is fifty and has his own children, he may stumble upon his high school yearbook, and they will ask who Stacy was. I hope he can look back and say I was someone who really cared about him, lover him, and most importantly, that I was someone who taught him about forgiveness.
I know this story is long but its pretty good! fell free to comment if you want.
Sitting in class, I concentrated on the back of Brian's neck. Evil thoughts filled my mind; I was secretly waiting for his head to explode. It didn't, and I was forced to watch my ex-boyfriend laugh and chat with every person in the room while he blatantly ignored me.
After Brian and I broke up, third period became pure torture. While I was still nursing what Iconsidered to be the worlds worst broken heart, I was bombarded with the sight of my ex's excessive flirting, as if he were proving to me that he was obviously over his heartache. During class, Brian would gossip loudly about his weekend, his latest party and his new car.
Maybe Brian was trying to get back at me for breaking off our six-month relationship. Maybe he thought that if he looked happy, it would hurt me more than I had hurt him.
At the end of our relationship, I let him cry on my shoulder but held a strong heart as he begged me not to go. Of course, he covered his pain very well at school, as if our tearful good-bye had never occurred.
Immediately after the breakup, Brian started dating another girl. She was graduating that spring, as if that were a big feat for a junior-year boy. She took him to the prom and announced it right beside me in math class. I, too, had a date for the prom but it still hurt. My hurt curled and turned to anger. It felt like he was trying to upset me, trying to rub his happiness in my face. Everytime I saw them together, I wanted to scream. It felt like the pain was going to tear me in half, or at least force me to consider tearing her in half.
School was coming to an end, and I eagerly waited for summer vacation, my savior. No more Algebra Two and that gnawing feeling in my stomache each day.
One day in dreaded third period, Brian leaned over to me, and to my surprise, he asked me to sign his yearbook. I most have sat there a full minute before I got over the shock and said yes.
I thought th myself" This is my chance". I could really let him have it! I could tell him that I knew what he was was doing, that he was trying to hurt me, and that it wasn't fair. I could tell him that I saw through his act, that he and I both knew it was exactly that, an act. But then it hit me, what good would come of that? Would belittling him make me feel better, or would it just perpetate the pain that we both needed to recover from?
Instead of writing the pain I had endured, I listed all of the fun times we had shared. I wrote about the the first place we kissed, the gifts he had given me, the lessons I had learned--the ones he had tought me--and the first " I love you" that was wispered between us. It took up one page, and that quickly became two, until my hand was tired of writing. There were still a million more memmories crowding the corner of my mind, and I remembered many more throughout the day. It made me realize the things I learned from him and what great experiences we had shared. I finished by elling him I held no hard feelings, and I hoped he felt the same.
Maybe what I wrote in his yearbook made me look weak, maybe he thought I was pathetic for still holding onto the memories of our rolationship. But writing all those things helped me; it helped me heal the wounds that still hurt in my heart. It felt liberating to let go of the grudge; I finally felt free from my anger.
I realized that Brian had taught me one final lesson: forgiveness. Someday, when he is fifty and has his own children, he may stumble upon his high school yearbook, and they will ask who Stacy was. I hope he can look back and say I was someone who really cared about him, lover him, and most importantly, that I was someone who taught him about forgiveness.
I know this story is long but its pretty good! fell free to comment if you want.