It’s hard to start fresh when you have history. It’s hard to deceive previous experience and it’s hard to ignore open wounds. Even so, she meant more to me than anything I’ve ever known.
We were only thirteen but I’d seen more shit than most people do in theaters. I was jaded before I was even a teenager but it was all okay to her. She would ask me walk her to class even though it would make me late — and I would — because she’d do the same for me. For 7 years, she was the only person I had trusted myself to. The thought of starting from scratch seemed insurmountable, so when we went our separate ways, I kept my distance with the other girls.
Years later she came back, but not for love. It was out of trust that she came to me for help. I didn’t mind, I felt like I owed it to her: she gave me something to believe in and that feeling was more than I could ever materialize. So when I had a chance to repay her, how could I say no?
And after all, I still loved her.
Looking back, I knew it was trouble. She had moved on and I was still uneasy about how things ended. I mean, she built me up over the years and then tore me down in days. I was lost and distracting myself from reality every chance I got. But buried beneath all of my patchwork, the foundation that she laid was still there and the desire for her structure never faded.
So when she asked for help, my answer was yes.