This is my blog. I shouldn't have to apologize when I post. But I am going to apologize right now. I'm sorry if you've heard about this before. I'm sorry if you're tired of the poor little girl crying about her perfect life. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
And if you're still reading, I'm sorry.
I pulled out Chad's CD tonight. I've decided he gets his real name here. And I've decided that I should be over him. Unfortunately whatever it is that's supposed to communicate messages from my head to my heart is slower than the Pony Express.
There's four songs on the CD: "Fine," "She Doesn't Know," "Rocketman," and "Good-bye." "Rocketman" is a cover of the Elton John song, but the others are original Chad. I jokingly called the collection "Chad [Last Name]: History of Emotional Attachment." The first song was for his ex-girlfriend Morgan. "She Doesn't Know" was for Emily, aka the-girl-I-loved-but-who-fell-for-my-best-friend. And "Good-bye"? "Good-bye" was my song. Before we ever kissed or held hands or dated.
Chad was the first boy I kissed and the first boy I kissed. He was the first boy I ditched my friends for. We spent hours at a park talking about our futures, nursing each other's wounds. I went to all of his productions of "Joseph" when he was Joseph and multiple productions of "Joseph and Mary" when he was, well, Joseph. He's the one who convinced me that facial hair is sexy.
He was also the boy who was going to ask me to prom, but didn't, and the guy I was dating who went on a blind date on New Years Eve. Why can't I remember these things, over everything else?
I found a picture of us last night. It's one of the few of us together, the night of the senior banquet. The night of my first kiss.
This is turning into melodrama and the CD has ended and started over again.
I should stop listening.
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5 comments:
I must say, I liked the first title better.
*first title reinstated at the suggestion of Master Fob, who sees and knows all*
Hee hee.
*getting high on my own power*
Your post reminded me of the first girl I ever really liked. I keep our prom picture in my wallet, or at least, I used to. I just checked to see if it was still there; it wasn't. I forget when I finally took it out which is probably a good sign I'm over her. Now, I don't have any pictures in my wallet. I still don't know if that's a good thing or not.
I'm sorry if you're tired of the poor little girl crying about her perfect life.
That's how I felt about my last blog post... but I didn't think this blog post needed such a disclaimer.
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