Today I heard a review of "The Green Hornet" on the radio.
On the 28th of February 2011 I went to the cinema with a boy whom I knew was in love with me. We'd been hanging out a lot the previous week, and I had decided to give him a chance, because he was sweet and shy, and the way he looked at me made me feel like the prettiest girl in the world. I met him at the cinema, and things were a bit awkward before the film began. When we sat there in our seats, I knew how nervous he was, I knew he wanted to take my hand, but he was a very shy and insecure person, and I knew he was terrified of rejection (as we all are). So I took his hand. We looked at each other and I smiled at him. I felt his tense body loosen up a bit, and he squeezed my hand, with a grin on his face. We sat like that throughout the film, our hands sweaty, and our hearts beating loudly. Afterwards he walked me home, and we kissed outside my hostparent's house. It was lovely, it was perfect. For about 7 months.
It's over now, and I've come to terms with it. I wouldn't want him back, and I'm not saying that in a desperate attempt to convince myself that I don't want him back. I genuinely wouldn't want to be with him anymore. I know I need someone who is a bit ... more than he is. Who would fight for me, and for "us". I'm not saying that every boy needs to act like a knight in shining armour, but if you truly love someone, you shouldn't give up on them the minute things get a bit hard. I don't love him anymore, and I don't think I ever could again. But I don't hate him either. I pity him.
Hearing the review on "The Green Hornet" made me long for the good times we had together, for the love and affection we shared. It made me sad, not because I miss him, but because I miss being wanted and loved, and I know I'll have to wait for a long time to have something like that again.
