The Grue (emptyonion) wrote in tellmeastory,
The Grue

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I used to love this boy, but he's gone now and whatever has replaced him is something wrong.

He took me on my first date, a formal dance, and everything was perfect and he was beautiful and I was happy because someone took an interest in me for once. We had talked two days earlier at the bonfire and under those stars I prayed to Freya for help....This was before the disease began to take hold.

Things never went right. October was hard. He ignored me, led me on, teased me with other girls. I began to vomit all the time in anxiety. My hair fell out in clumps sometimes. I never slept. I needed him. He was beautiful. I needed someone beautiful.

We had Choir and theater together so we were always in close contact that year. Always doing plays and concerts. Everyone thought we were dating. Jennifer was a thorn in my side. Getting in between us. Jenna was my adversary, vying for his love.

We had planned this date once, a date at the Roller Skating Rink, and it was January so it was snowing. I waited and waited for him, trying to call his house, hoping he'd show up. I was with my friend, who hated him because she knew what he was like. He never showed up.
When it came time to leave, me and my friend waited outside in the cold for my father to come pick us up. The snow was falling and I began to cry because it wasn't the first time he had done this to me, and it wouldn't be the last. It was so cold, the tears froze to my face and my cheeks were coated with ice.

That March, our choir went to Willamsburg for a competition. At Busch Gardens we all gathered for the awards ceremony and it was raining. Me and him ate fried chicken and potato salad in the rain, under a pavilion, together. I bought funnel cake for him and we shared that, the powder getting on my poncho. I was happy.

He told me he didn't want to go to Prom, which I accepted. I found out the day before Prom he was going with Karen.

The last time I saw him, before he died and something else filled his vessle, was as he drove away, me standing infront of the gate to the Old School and watching the back of his neck drive off into the Spring night. All Summer I tried to contact him, spend time with him, tell him I loved him.
I saw what he turned into that October and such an illness and bile began to fill me.

I never saw his oldself again. I concider him dead now.
I do not mourn anymore.
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