Sometimes the person you love the most is the one who can do the most damage.
There was once a quiet, awkward 6th-grade girl. This girl had just started to notice another 6th-grade boy. He was funny and charismatic, athletic and smart; his hair was in a constant state of bed-head, and he always had a smile on his face. It seemed like an innocent crush at the time, but little did she know it would grow to be much more.
He switched schools the next year. She missed his laugh and his way of making people happy. She tried to message him sometimes after school. He would never reply. He talked for hours to her friends, the other girls in her class. But to her, he was silent. She was persistent and one day, unexpectedly, she received a simple message — “hey.” From then on, she talked to him. The conversation was not mutual, however. She talked and talked, only to receive messages of “hey” “IDK” “OK” “yeah” and the like. To receive more than one word from this boy was monumental. And even though he didn’t give her the time of day, she didn’t mind. Just talking to him, or more like talking to him was enough for her.
After months of this conversation online, after more persistence from the girl, he finally gave her his number. And so she texted him. And while he replied in a similar fashion as before, he held one thing over her: he would not store her number in his phone. She wasn’t worth a name to him, wasn’t worth thirty seconds to create a new contact, wasn’t worth saving or holding on to.
He continued texting this number, and eventually he realized she could be of help. He had his eyes on another girl but was unsure of how to obtain her. Oblivious to the number’s apparent feelings for him, he began to seek her advice. And even though it hurt her, she helped him. She listened to him lust after this other girl. She listened to him say that this girl was the only one worth his effort. What she really heard was that she wasn’t worth anything. At least not to him. But she continued to help him, because she thought, with some miracle, maybe he would realize what was standing right in front of him.
A pattern like this continued, and the two became good friends, although he would never admit it. She stayed up all night just to get the chance to talk to him on the phone, to hear him ramble about his latest object of affection. All that mattered to her was hearing his voice. His affections continued to shift from pretty girl to pretty girl, even to her childhood best friend. She herself was invisible to him. She was merely a tool to get to what he wanted. And as he told her more and more, she fell deeper and deeper in love with him, even though she knew he couldn’t see her.
Finally, his efforts paid off. He had a girl. She was beautiful, smart, and funny. And suddenly, his need for the number ended. It no longer served a purpose. It was like the quiet girl — his best friend — ceased to exist.
Three years passed. The quiet, awkward young girl had grown up, and while she was still reserved, she had gained confidence and found happiness with someone else. The boy, however, was not so content. His relationship was losing its enchantment. And suddenly he found himself in need of someone, someone who was willing to help him, no matter how much it hurt herself.
A few months passed, but this time was different than the first. She got home from school to find messages from him waiting for her. While she was still merely a tool to him, she was finally more than just a number. She didn’t mind that there was a reason he reached out to her — she liked the feeling of being needed.
Gradually, the girl’s own relationship began to falter. She herself became unsure. So in a change of events, she turned to him. And he was there for her, encouraging her, telling her that she deserved to be happy. And she believed him. And in the back of her mind, she thought, maybe, just maybe I have a chance.
The day came that she ended things. She broke a boy’s heart while damaging her own. And the smiling boy was there for her. He wrapped his arms around her as she held back tears. But that same night he tried to kiss her. Not because he loved her, not because he cared, but because he missed how it felt to kiss someone. Anyone. She just happened to be the most convenient option. She was sitting there next to him, broken, distressed, and he thought it best to toy with her heart. As he leaned in, she suddenly realized what was happening. It was a moment she had dreamed of since she was in the 6th grade, and he was just a funny boy with a contagious smile. But as much as she had prayed for this moment, she didn’t want it like this. She pulled back and began to sob. He sat next to her, silent once again. She listened to him tell her that it didn’t mean anything. That it was insignificant. What she heard was that she was insignificant. That would be the last time they saw each other.
Despite that incident, she tried to forgive him. Her own heart healed, and the friendship returned to its previous state. He needed her. Not to make him laugh or to keep him company. But to tell him what he ought to do, for other girls had caught his eye once again. And the girl continued to be there for him, because for some reason, he always held a special place in her heart. She still felt that maybe, just maybe, she stood a chance. That he would wake up one day and realize she was good enough. She was pretty enough. She was worth his time and effort.
The pattern continued, and the boy held her at arms length, never letting her get close enough that he might actually feel something. Eventually, the girl decided that she was worth more than he treated her. She chose to break the pattern. She chose to leave him behind. She chose to stop letting herself get hurt by the same silly boy. She chose to put her own needs and feelings before his. And although it hurt, she knew this decision would make her stronger and, eventually, happier.
