Number 8: Ambivalence

Never has a truer word been spoken to describe my feelings for her. I discovered it not too long ago, reading a vocab lesson in English class. I went and looked up the definition in the dictionary the next day, looked at it, and thought, "So...is that what it is?"

Main Entry:

am·biv·a·lence

Pronunciation:

\am-ˈbi-və-lən(t)s\

Function:

noun

Etymology:

International Scientific Vocabulary

Date:

1918

1: simultaneous and contradictory attitudes or feelings (as attraction and repulsion) toward an object, person, or action
2 a: continual fluctuation (as between one thing and its opposite) b: uncertainty as to which approach to follow

It's been over five years since it began. Five years, can you believe it? I mean, it feels like it was just yesterday when I was staring at her name on the note card at the seat next to mine, trying to pull up a face to match, and failing. And I mean, I didn't know what I was doing...I mean, well...I did. I was aware of what I was doing, but I didn't think that it'd ever come to this.

And there's been so much behind it all, going back there, thinking about all the little things that have happened, all the atrocities that have occurred, all the people that I've hurt and that have hurt me. There are those who believe they know the whole story and can just stick with that, but those are the people who don't deserve to know. Those are the people who will never know.

But maybe they're right. Maybe the story isn't as complicated as I make it seem, and that the entire scenario boils down to one point. Maybe the scene that I see in my mind is just that; my imagination. It could just be, "You liked a girl, she didn't like you back, but you refused to believe that." I'd rather it not be like that, but as time passes by that idea becomes more and more apparent and plausible.

And then five years passed. Five whole years...

I've grown to the point where I need her just to get through the day. I'll go out of my way just to catch a glimpse, just a hint, just a second, and then I'm fine. I can smile for an hour or so, replaying it over again in my mind's eye. It's a sensation that anyone can relate to; just imagine something you love. The feeling that you get when you see it, that rush, that quickness of breath; whether it be a person, an activity, or a time of year. That complete and utter euphoria... I hear her laugh, see her smile, and I just feel like everything is fine.

Then I go home and feel guilty. I feel guilty because I know it isn't right, I feel guilty because I know she hates it, and I feel guilty because I know that, no matter how much I tremble and cry after that hour or so of euphoria, no matter how much I hate myself afterwards for it...I'm going to go and do it again tomorrow.

I remember when I'd gotten out of middle school, I thought that someday this would all just be a dream and that she and I could laugh about it, together. And that was three years ago. At least now I'm mature enough to realize that the two of us will never be able to laugh about it. Hell, I'm not even sure it's a subject worth laughing over.

And her? Well...she's doing fine. Of course I'm the one who'd know.