The Point of No Return

I had seen you before. I knew your name and the friends closest to you, but never were your words directed to me, nor mine to you. You just so happened to sit at my table that first day of junior year, and the chemistry was immediate. We had a class together later that day; seeing you again made me smile. We were forced into a group together, and this did not seem to disappoint you or me, and, within a week, my number was in your phone.1

The first night you sent me a text was the start of recurrent sleepless nights spent awake with you. Vibrations from my phone meant that you, Adam, had something to say to me. I was cared for, I was loved, and your valuable time you were willing to spend on me.2

We grew closer with every text exchanged, closer than I had ever felt towards a man. Yes, I call you a man for every moment we spent together, each time you reached for my hand or enveloped me in an embrace, I grew a year older, a year more mature.3

We shouldn’t have been together; my father’s rules spelled that out clearly. However, our feelings had grown too strong, and rules no longer mattered to us. “Yes, we’re just friends. There’s nothing between us,” I repeated verbatim to friends, family, and strangers who asked. This was a lie.4

I had gone in too deep. I let my emotions cloud the knowledge in my head that had been built up throughout the years. How could a boy cause me to throw out all sense of intelligence and good judgment? Yes, I call him a boy because only a boys’ lack of maturity would give him the “right” to take the emotions of a girl on a ride.5

I was not ready for this relationship; I knew not how to handle it. We had been taking it slow, but tonight you kissed me. I knew I had stayed alone with you for too long; I let darkness keep our actions hidden. Then after you walked away, I stood there, freezing on the ice that covered the pavement. What had I done?6

Everything had felt so right, and, in some ways, our relationship still felt—perfect. I was content to be in your arms, and you felt equally as happy with your arms wrapped around my small waist, your coat covering most of my upper body. We would hold each other every night like that, pausing to talk about our past on the most intimate of levels. And every night after you left, regrets followed immediately. We could never be together and though I had known that from the beginning, I had allowed myself to give my heart over to you completely.7

I never would have guessed that we would come to this point—the point of no return. I loved you, or so I had allowed myself to believe. “I don’t believe in love,” I had convinced myself years before. I knew the pain they caused, the pain men caused. Why did I let myself fall into the trap I knew all men set? I wanted to be loved, but now, my wish was the complete opposite.8

Tonight I decided it was no longer worth it. After you left, I determined that I didn’t want to wait for you to hurt me, so I hurt myself. Tonight I killed myself, and pain, I will never feel again.9