Very still and all alone, you sit. Letting your mind wander through life's memories.

You think of the first boy who ever broke your heart, the guy you will never get over. How he used to touch you. What he used to say. How you used to feel. How it all went down the drain.

You go back farther to a time when you were in love. How he used to kiss you. How good that made you feel. How guilty that made you feel. How everything was ruined.

He left that summer. You felt the separation anxiety. You felt the withdrawal symptoms as you heard from him less and less. And finally, you cheated on him when you had no one else to turn to. Oh, how you wish you hadn't.

Because he came back. Had a deeper voice. Was a little more rugged. But the same boy who used to say he loved you. Who knew how to show you that he cared.

But you know things aren't the same. You can't talk to him the way you used to. Anxiety sets in. You begin to worry if there was nothing more than physical attraction holding you two together. And, of course, you can't talk to him about this.

So, you break up with him. You remember that day well. You knew he knew it was coming. Or at least knew that something was up. He said "I love you" one last time. And you threw it all back in his face with the words " I think we should..." Need I go on?

He was devastated. And, the truth was, so were you. You became obsessive. Every girl he smiled at received a space on your hate list. HE was even on your hate list, because you thought that by hating him... you might be able to get over him.

But all ended in failure. You needed him back. But you weren't about to ask him to come back. What would he think of you then?

Finally, you couldn't stand it any longer. He said yes. Things went back to normal, but now you both were a little more cautious. You never actually confronted what had killed the first relationship. The old problems resurfaced.

You guys got closer and closer. But you began to feel that his arms around you and your lips against his were (once again) the only thing holding you together.

You became depressed. You started writing letters to him because you just couldn't talk to him. Of course those letters never made it to him. They lay stowed away in your bedroom.

Your connection weakened. You started pulling away from each other, already seeking comfort from others. Possibly trying to make the other realize what they were missing. Now you realize how stupid that was. You two were still dating, for crying out loud!

You became extremely possessive. He was all yours and that's all there was to it.

You started up your hate list again. Everyone's names were eventually put on there. He didn't know. And you couldn't tell if he could care less or cared at all. Everything he said to you cut like a thousand knives. And that's eventually what you turned to. Cutting.

You tried it once. But you didn't want to do it. Your body had acted on it's own. You were screaming inwardly all the while. Afraid to scream outwardly in case somebody heard.

You showed your cuts to him. You don't know why you showed him. Whether you were afraid and didn't know who else to turn to, or you wanted sympathy from him. It doesn't matter now. You showed him. That's that.

Apparently, he freaked out. Went and told people. Who told other people. Now everybody knows. You lie to the few people who are still totally clueless, just to uphold even a scrap of the dignity you once had. " What happened to your arm?" they ask. " It got cut when I went bushwhacking." you respond. "Good', they say, 'At least you weren't cutting yourself. I know someone you does it. It's so stupid."

You feel lower than dirt. At least they don't suspect that you're lying. You can feel adults eyes watching you more closely now. You went from "everyone's role model" to "should be institutionalized or at least on medication".

You hate him for that. You know you need to break up with him. But how can you? Two break-ups on your record? And with the same person? What will everyone think of you?

You just can't do it. But luckily, he does it for you. Turns out that one of his New Year resolutions was to get rid of what was weighing him down. You.

You're not really sad. Or you weren't when he first told you. When people ask about it, you tell them it was mutual.

But you're not over him. Nor will you ever be. Everything he does affects you. You're still trying to impress him. Trying to make him see what he's missing. It's not working.

He seems to still care. But you can't be too sure. He's sweet one minute and the complete opposite the next. Maybe he's bipolar. Maybe you're the one who's bipolar. You're best friends with someone one minute, then want to scream at them "f**k you!" the next.

You could blame him for all of this. After all, that's what dad does. Blame his ex (your mom) for everything. Says his health problems didn't start until he married her. Of course she disagrees. You wouldn't blame her. Who wants 14 years of marriage shoved back in their face?

You tend to side with her. She says you're her favorite. It used to be that she couldn't pick favorites. Guess that changed when the kids started taking sides.

You wonder where God has been through all of this. You know that He's been right next to you all along, but you just can't accept it. How could you have made so many bad choices?

After all, you're only 14.