Before high school I was a pretty good kid. I had never been kissed, never done drugs, only tastes alcohol once, and just innocent. Like others high school changes all that. I got an entire new group of friends and started living. The problem was I was still innocent and I got taken advantage of because of it. This made me have huge trust issues and and a very low self-esteem. I started drinking way too much to try to forget. I smoked weed until my lungs felt like they were going to collapse to try and not feel so terrible. I let guys do whatever the hell they wanted to me if they just called me pretty first, and if all else failed I cut myself to just try to stop feeling. Basically I was a complete mess. Then I met Derek. Derek was not as fucked up as me, but not as good at hiding it either. We became close. When I was helping him try to get through his shit I forgot about how much I hated myself. He was the perfect therapy. After a while we became more than friends, and that’s when he learned about everything. He then made it his mission to save me from myself. The problem was though that I was too scared of trusting people to let him. We were practically dating, but I was so scared of getting hurt I refused to call us that and did not want anything about us public. I constantly tried keeping Derek at arms length just to make sure I didn’t get hurt.
So that was our relationship for two years. I was stilled beyond messed up and he still tried fixing me. We were constantly on and off. We were the definition of dysfunctional. We would be crazy about each other one week and the next talking to someone else to make the other jealous. Our relationship was literally a rollercoaster, but through it all no matter what he was there for me. Either when I was too drunk to function or too sad to think I deserved to lived he was always there.
One day we were in class together and we had been fighting but like always we ended up making up by making out. I was so confused when school got out wondering if it was really worth it to give us another try since I refused to let him in and he refused to stay if I didn’t. That night he texted me, but I was out with friends and never texted him back. The next day I was on my way to my soccer game when a teammate gets a call that their was an accident. My best friends boyfriend and Derek were hit by an 18-wheeler. It was said one of them was dead but we didn’t know which. My best friend and I held on to each other both praying it’s not our boys and knowing how much it’s gonna hurt the other if our prayers are answered. My prayers weren’t answered and I lost him.
Not only did I lose Derek that day I lost myself. I spent the next two years miserable. I became friendless because I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I became rude from lack of sleep. I became empty because I couldn’t find any reasons to care anymore. I spent every second of every day thinking what if. Not just “what if they had left a little early” or “what if they had taken a different route” but also “what if I let him in” “what if I was sober long enough to fall in love with him” “what if I had never gotten hurt and actually trusted” I tortured myself with these questions.
Now I’m sorry that this story is mediocre at best and doesn’t really have an ending but I guess it’s because I can’t figure out how to end it. This is my story. And for some reason even after all this time I can’t get over the boy who actually cared and I can’t stop asking what if.