Most people don’t think it can happen, falling in love at the age of 13. But they’re wrong. Or at least I think they’re wrong. It’s just the opposite, really. I remember asking my mother when I was young if people could fly. You know what her response was? Anything can happen. So that’s what I’ve believed all these years, for just about everything. Anything can happen. Especially if you try to make it happen for you.


I watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s for the first time tonight. I’d never really wanted to try it, since it was made a long time ago, practically historic to a 13 year old like me (almost 14, I’d like you to know.) But I tried watching it. Long movie, but it was a good one. One of the lines that stuck out in my head is, “people fall in love and make each other happy.” Make each other happy.

I guess you’re all wondering what happened to the boy I wanted to make happy. Tried to make happy, at least. Making someone happy can be really hard. It’s no tea party, believe me. But I tried. I tried really hard. And I still believe I failed.

I met this boy named Zack during the summer. Actually, it was at the end of my 7th grade year. I remember. It was really hot that day. I don’t know if that has any significance, but it was really hot that day. Really hot.

Let me just tell you right away so you’re not confused. Zack and I met online. I’m not going to tell you where; but I’ll tell you right now-it was not myspace. (Whenever people hear this story, they gasp and say “omg, on myspace?!?!) Uh, no. Myspace is a disgusting place. It was just a place online. For friends. It might’ve been a little like myspace, but I’d really rather not compare it.

We started out as friends, as most relationships do. Good friends right away. We talked every single day, sometimes for hours at a time. I learned everything about him-his favorite color, his middle name, his favorite sport (although he did talk about that every other second…so I pretty much knew that from the start.) I guess you could say we got to be too good of friends. Every free second, in between school, homework, and social life, I was talking to him. Soon enough, he became my entire social life. I never really felt like going out anymore.

So here comes the part everybody likes to hear about. The good stuff, they’d call it. Or at least that’s what my little sister called it. Ok, so a few weeks after becoming “best friends” or “closer than my friends” as he called it, we “hooked up.” Not the actual type of hooking up, when a guy and a girl…well, you know the rest. But we “dated.” Now, I know what you’re thinking. How is that even possible? Isn’t that hard? Doesn’t that feel really weird? Doesn’t it hurt? Well to answer all of those questions, yes. Yes, yes, yes yes. Yes it is possible. It happens all the time. Yes, it’s extremely hard, especially since your “boyfriend” is so far away. Yes, it feels very weird, especially at first. It just totally freaked me out. And yes. It hurts.

Our “relationship” became one that went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The first time we “went out”; it was only for about half a day. I broke it off the first time. It was just too weird for me, the way it felt. Having my first boyfriend to be an online one, one I couldn’t even see, couldn’t even talk to in person. Plus I kinda liked somebody else, but he didn’t figure that out till later. The next day he came online and his headline was, “I love________ fea.” (I’m not going to tell you the name, obviously.) I think I can guess what you’re wondering. Did it hurt? Nah. Actually, it didn’t hurt a bit. Not at all. I was actually quite happy for him. Quite. I even congratulated him, and asked who the lucky girl was. But then he told me his sad story, and I was unhappy along with him. Supposedly, this girl who he “ loved fea” (which, in case any of you don’t know, means forever and always) was about to break it off with him. OUCH.

So it happened. The break up. And he asked me out again. And I, again, accepted. I partly felt really bad for him and didn’t want him to hate me. But the other part, the bigger part I want you to know, began to like him for the first time. I stopped crushing on the other guy and began crushing on Zack. Crushing real hard.

It lasted for about a week or two. Then a break up. This time by him. I’m not exactly sure what it was all about; something about him wanting to kill himself. Then back together. Then break up, still, for the same reason. Then together. Apart. Together. Apart. It happened a lot; too many times for me to even count. And yeah, it really hurt.

I remember one of the first times he said “I love you” to me. It was online of course (we didn’t start to actually talk until much later.) He told me he loved me. And I said it back, of course. I actually thought it was a bit too early, but hey, why not? Looking back now, I don’t think I understood what I was even feeling at the time, which was what probably made me say it. I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand. And the love comments never stopped, either. They kept going and going, until I began to say them more often too. At first it was pressure, for that I’m sure. I’m sure it wasn’t intended. It was just what he was feeling. But it was a lot to handle, especially since we were both only 13 at the time.

Love. Huh. What can people really say about love anyways? How can Webster’s Dictionary even have an entry for it? If I were the author or the co-writer or whatever, I wouldn’t have an entry for it. Neither would I have one for hate. You know why? Because I don’t believe either exists. I think that they’re an addiction, a need, an obsession of some sort, for good or for evil.

They’re both abuse.

After the first time I said “I love you” to him and actually meant it, I was giddy. Finally, FINALLY, I had found what I’d been looking for all along. The love I had always wanted, always yearned for, was here at last. And I couldn’t believe how lucky I was.

Soon we were talking on the phone. Just like our messages online, our phone conversations were just as long. We talked about everything, just everything. I loved hearing his voice, a whisper in my ear that tickled all the hairs, making them stand at attention. His jokes made us laugh so hard that both our stomachs hurt at the end. It was like he’d put a spell over me, making me feel perky and happy all the time, every single day. I smiled all the time and people were always wondering why. He did something to me, and I knew that I would always feel a part of this forever.

But I never thought I would have to say that.

But then it struck. The lightning. Things became colder, although it was August, and the temperature was in the 90’s every single day. In truth, he had become distanced from me. I thought it was just because he was busy, but that wasn’t it at all.

I thought it was me. But what did I do, other than love him unconditionally? What did I do, other than make him my whole life? Why was it always me…?

But then I figured it out. It was HER. The girl he had started talking to so much more than me, the girl who was so much prettier, and funnier, and cuter…

Nia.

Then the break up. This time I tried my hardest not to cry. It was his fault. He cheated. Or what you could call cheating. I tried logging on every single day, and he would be on. But so was she. Soon enough I just stopped logging on. He was the problem. He’s the one that cheated, that took me for granted. But then I began to wonder, what could I have done to prevent this?

Then I decided. It wasn’t him. It was me.

Then a number of things happened. My mom figured everything out, for one. And he broke up with his “girlfriend” for another. And then I deleted my page.


Now it’s about 4 months later, and I’m still thinking about him. It’s getting colder out now, but I can barely tell. My heart was already frozen and cracked, just like the pond ice in the winter, which is beginning to approach NY now. He’s probably just fine. A little bruised, but able to go on. But I’m still here, cold and cracked girl, and I miss him more than anything.