All it takes is a Donut to find Love

If you're here, get ready for a story. It's 3:04 am right now. Let's see how long this takes.

A little background information: my name is Spencer. I turned 18 only a few days ago, celebrating by staying home in my closed-off apartment that I currently share with my father and stepmother. I work at Cece's Burgers and Fries, a branch off of Cici's Pizza, whom I have been with for almost two years. I skipped the sixth grade, leaving me well over a year younger than my average peer, and giving me a strict disadvantage with social availability, as I couldn't drive until around Junior year. My parents separated when I was 2 years old in what I heard was a bitter, bitter feud over my father's drinking habits affecting me. I have lived with my mother for 17 years, before I finally gathered the courage to run away from the abuse, not even realizing I was legally protected.

In middle school, I was very, very popular. I was the main performer and adviser with both the band and orchestra programs, organizing social events and supporting fundraising in my school as well as leading as class president for both seventh and eighth grade. I was very satisfied with my current life, until midway through seventh grade, when massively overwhelming thoughts of suicide began causing physical symptoms, such as nausea and even passing out during a concert. I admitted to my mother that I was having these dark thoughts for no apparent reason, and I was given several different medications to combat what I was diagnosed with: sever Depression, most likely chronic, and then a few more for the side effects of the other drugs.

And then, one day, around age 14, I remember telling my mother that I loved her as I went to bed, and I had the sickening realization that I didn't mean it. Not in a cruel way, that I wished any harm upon her, but that I felt nothing for her. And then I realized I felt nothing for anyone, that all feelings of happiness and love were gone. More than anything, this scared the living **** out of me. I was so scared I was going to be a sociopath. Outside of the view of others, I would conduct experiments to test if my medication was the cause of this loss of feeling, and indeed, it was not. This was how I was. No happiness, but I was damn good at lying. And so, my social status gradually fell and I stopped caring about a lot of things I previously did, including music.

Are you still with me? Good. Because that's just the interlude.

The real story has to do with a girl. A girl I met Freshman year in Orchestra, a girl I had no idea would change me. It all started with a donut, which then led to an introduction.

For her own privacy, we will call her Sarah. I really hope I don't mess that up.

Sarah. She was amusing. Clever, strange. Beautiful. I had no idea why one such as her would take any interest into me, but I guess she found the same fascination in me as I did her. We hit it off, not in a relationship sense or a sexual sense, but as really, really close friends. We had a close group of friends, me being the only guy, that we all would hang out with, but me and Sarah were inseparable. At times, I began to feel things, which made me ever the more curious. I attempted relationships with others to see if I would be happy or feel love, and that is one of the few things I really regret. I hate using people, I really do, and i'm sorry that I did that. But I told Sarah of my relationships, and she would tell me of hers.

There is a LOT of story I can go into here. She cried on my shoulder, I would hold her close. She was so...amazing.

One day, after about 2 years of being best friends, I convinced her to skip orchestra class and come get ice cream with me. She was worried, and I hushed her when I took her hand in mine and made her come with me. We ran, across streets, through bushes, and I bought her ice cream with money that I stole from my mother (more regrets). We had to go somewhere where we wouldn't be caught by either of our mothers, so I found the nearest hiding spot, behind a bank across from our school. We sat and laughed and ate our ice cream, looking at the birds and cars and feeling the wind.

October 28, 2013. She ended up sitting in front of me when it happened. I was learning how to braid her hair. I had a spark. A feeling. Overwhelming. I gently pulled her hair back, bringing her head closer to mine, and when she turned around, I kissed her.

I will never forget that. I will never regret that. 20 years passed, and our lips were still in a gentle, timid kiss. I would not use her. No. She was different. I felt something for her...she was always there with me.

I waited no time in letting everyone know she was mine. I was PROUD to have this gorgeous woman by my side, and more than anything, I wanted to make her the happiest person alive. She was everything I aspired to be. I felt so much in my heart for her. I wrote her songs on the piano. I remember going to Grand Nationals for the first time for our marching band, and she was a part of our color guard. The 24 hour bus ride there and back, we would be sitting next to each other talking and laughing aloud, or she would be asleep in my arms. Every fault we had we worked out. She would sneak behind our parents backs and come to my house, where we would watch Supernatural and Dr.Who on netflix (her favorite shows), cuddling or kissing. I told her I loved her. She told me She loved me. That changed everything. I felt EVERYTHING. She was the sparkle in my eye, the beating of my heart, the reason I got up in the morning. My life was given purpose. Reason. Truth. I can only hope everyone would know love like this. It was pure. Not like the infatuation I had for others, or the lust for sexual desires. This was love in the purest form.

And that's not to say I couldn't be without her. We lived our separate lives, sharing some friends, and then hanging out with other friends we didn't share. I was occasionally jealous of her guy friends, but never in poor behavior. I had my own hobbies, she had hers. But we always came back to each other.

Homecoming. The beginning of when things went wrong, Things went so wrong. She was looking forward to it so much. She got all dressed up, in her beautiful dress, and I bought a tux. The day it happened, on a Friday, my mother, high from her medication, checked my grades, and deemed that I couldn't go. I couldn't argue. I was 15/16 years old. And she took away my phone. Oh God. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell Sarah I wasn't coming. Oh God. I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. I had stood her up on homecoming, and I couldn't do anything to let her know that I wasn't coming. That is a feeling no one should have to feel. Oh God.

From what I was told, she was still waiting for me, even after Homecoming was over. She was still waiting for me, convinced that I wouldn't stand her up. I never came. I felt like scum. I hated my mother. I HATED her. I would've killed her, if I had any less self control.

As soon as I returned to school, I was given so many looks of hate and despise, for everyone saw the lone crying girl at the Homecoming dance. I found her at school, and I dropped to my knees asking for forgiveness, explaining what happened. She understood. She said she forgave me, but I didn't forgive myself.

I don't think she ever trusted me again. The next day, with the school's permission, I was able to have the entire cafeteria to myself in the morning before school started, and I made my own makeshift Homecoming as a surprise to her, with music I planned just for her, dressed in my Tux, the lights low, while everyone else in the entire school could do nothing but watch me dance with my girl. She cried, but for a different reason than the first Homecoming. This time, she was happy. I was happy.

October 28, 2014: More good memories and happy feelings later, our one-year anniversary had rolled by. Through not-so-legal means and through the help of a good friend that managed to figure out her finger size, I had bought her a real diamond ring. I remember taking her to the same spot where I had first kissed her behind the bank. I asked her,

"When high school is over and I go to my college and you go to your college, will you still be mine?" In retrospect, that wasn't a fair question.

"Yes. I will be yours."

"Will you wait for me?"

"For 1000 years." (that was our 'thing', 1000 years. Thanks,Christina Perri)

And I presented her the ring. "Not now, not tomorrow, and maybe not for awhile. But I want you to be mine. I want to make you happy forever." She bawled, and accepted the ring. It wasn't a proposal, but a promise. That I would always be there. She wore it proudly, as I received my own gift in the form of a giant stuffed animal named You. She named it that because whenever someone says 'I love You', they would mean the stuffed animal. She thought she was so clever. She really was. She giggled, and I embraced her.

Christmas. I told her to make me a list of things she wants. She absolutely refused. "I don't want anything!" She would say. "That's so cute, coming from you. Now tell me the truth." On Christmas Eve (you know. The best time to say what gift you want -_-") On the very bottom of the list, in small, small print, she wrote:

"Would you maybe possibly maybe want to have a child...?" I even remember the question mark being almost sideways, she was writing so small. I am not going to have a child until I have a stable job and I know I can give my all into that kid, but just hearing her say that sent chills down my spine. Some amounts of happiness, a person can't even handle.

Prom. She was so scared I would leave her behind, like Homecoming. Like I said, I don't think she ever fully trusted me again. I don't blame her. She told me she knew it wasn't my fault, but she was still scared. Poor girl. I can't imagine what that was like. I took her hand in mine and promised to her, crossing over my heart with her own hands, that I would make it the greatest prom ever. It really was. Me, her, and 8 other people rode in a limo with flashing lights and music. And when we were almost there, I made the limo driver take a stop next to a building, where I had waiting a horse-drawn carriage just for me and her to ride up to prom in, where everyone would see us. Yet again, she cried. I loved it when she was happy. She was so happy.

I think that was the last time I saw her happy.

About a month later, she grew more distant. Her texting grew less frequent. Her attitude changed. She made more excuses. I definitely noticed, and I let her know that I noticed, but I said I would always be here if she needed to talk, and if not, then I wouldn't keep pressing the issue.

A month after that, it became worse. She came to me admitting that she went behind my back and smoked weed with one of her coworkers (who she told me likes her. You know. More jealousy). Wow. The first time she had ever actually lied to me. That was something she promised me she would do with me first. Well, not only was I hurt, but I was concerned. What would drive her to smoke with someone else? HIM? Why not me? I asked her the same thing, and she gave me no response, just like last time. This time, I knew something was wrong. I told her, you need to tell me what is going on, because this isn't like you. She said "You're right. I know. I'm sorry. But this isn't a good place. I'll text you about it, ok?" That was fine. I know things are hard to say in person.

She never told me. Even when I pressed the issue, she denied it's existence. This was so unlike her. Who was this person so distant from me?

We graduated high school together.

July 26th, 2015. I tremble as she texts me. "Are you breaking up with me?" I say. No reply. "I need to see you." I say. "Ok. I'll be at your house. Give me a few minutes." She pulls up in her car, sends a text to her friend saying "I'm going to do it." And pulls away to a remote location with me in the car.

"Why?"

"You're leaving for college, Spencer. I need a boyfriend that will be with me here and now."

"But you promised me. When I gave you the ring on your finger. That you would wait for me."

"I'm sorry."

"Is there someone else?" I hate crying.

"No."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't you ever talk to me???" I hate people.

"This is hard for me too."

"So why are you doing it? We were always there for each other." I hate living.

"Because I just can't. I'm sorry."

I. Hate. Every. *******. Thing. The world needs to burn with me. **** you. **** that. You bitch. Why would you lead me on for so long. Why couldn't you be honest with me I would have understood why are you doing this Idontunderstandpleasenotnowwhywhywhywhywhythiscantbehappening

I saw the sky break above me. The pieces fell into my chest and my lungs and my mind and there was nothing all at once.

"Ok. I understand." Is all I said.

She drove me back. She tried to kiss me. I didn't fight back, my arms wouldn't move. "Promise me something." she said.

"What?" I said.

"Promise me you won't hurt yourself."

What the ****. That's the last thing you're gonna say to me? Don't HURT myself? Really?

"I promise."

"Ok. Goodbye, Spencer."

Goodbye.

I returned home, and blacked out in my mothers arms. I still had to go to work that day. **** everyone. I remember going through the motions of work, with no passion, snapping at people, and having to run for the bathroom when the emotions came running to my eyes. What followed was a nightmarish hell where I yet again experienced no happiness or any form of salvation. This was my own hell. My form of madness.

And for the record, I never went to college like I planned. I ended up withdrawing my application. Oh, the irony.

About a month later, I am walking to work, and Sarah's mom stops me on the way by the road, apparently ignorant to how much pain I was in. She insists on giving me a ride to work. I refuse, and eventually give in. More things I regret. I learn that Sarah has a new boyfriend. It didn't hit me in that moment, but later, I actually threw up at the idea. **** me, right? Is that why she left? Even when I asked her straight up? I had deleted Sarah's number, but I texted one of my friends who did have her number. I told her, "Tell Sarah that I don't ever want to hear from her or her mother, and that I especially don't want to hear of her new boyfriend, since he's clearly so much better than I am."

It was then that I decided to leave my mother. That she had hurt me way too many times. I packed my bags while she was at work, and left for Cici's. And there I stayed. I slept outside every night in the cold, and got up every day to pizza and soda. My coworkers understood, and bless them, they did everything they could to make it better. Again, I felt nothing for them, but tried to act my way through it. I was given a sleeping bag. I asked for more hours to try to get my mind off of her. I worked upwards of 70-80 hours a week, becoming a manager, occasionally taking showers are a nearby Rec center, living out of a suitcase.

This torment didn't end. I had nightmares. I slept on cold rock, enticing me to never fall asleep. If you have not spent a night outside before, it's so much worse than you even know. Your body temperature drops when you sleep, and mixed with the night air, its a whole new kind of cold. It goes into your heart and makes your entire body shake, and follows you everywhere you go. Try it, just once. It's a hard experience. Now live like that. I am 17 years old with no one but a manager and my coworkers to call family.

I believe those people were sent from heaven. They made me at least feel slightly understood. My mother, who dropped by every now and then, would refuse to hear me talk of Sarah because she thought I should be over her. Indeed, in time, everyone told me I should be over her. Almost 8 months had passed, and it still felt like every day she was breaking up with me again.

A female coworker of mine, Julia, was one of the most persistent. She told me, "How can you still care for her, after so long?" No one understood, and now, no one would listen. "Come to my place after you close shop, ok?" She took me in her car and rove me to where she stayed. She lived with her father, a drunk with no attention span. **** men like that. He doesn't deserve a daughter.

She took me to her room, where she rolled up a blunt of weed for us both. I had smoked before, but I don't like it. I am very, very analytical, and not having a perfect frame of mind messes with me. I don't like the feeling. Regardless, I didn't want to seem ungrateful for her efforts at the least and I took it, and smoked with her in her room. Go figure, she had different plans.

"Tell me if you feel anything now." She tried her best to be seductive, to be sexy. To a person who doesn't feel, it looks so amusing. It looks so stupid. She stripped, and then stripped me, and we had sex. I hoped I would feel something. I really did, that all of America couldn't be so stupid as to think sex was anything special. And no. I felt nothing. I used her, more than she knows. I told her I cared for her, that I was over Sarah. Hah. It was so dumb. And now, I have seen the true side of humanity. I have no mother. My father tries his best, and I lie to him about everything to keep him at bay. The only one I trusted was the one who destroyed me. If I can't trust her, who can I trust? I didn't care who I hurt now. She came. So did I.

I know not everyone lies. But anyone can, even the one's you trust most. So why trust at all?

I told Julia I didn't want to sleep with her again. Frowning, she just cuddled with me until morning.

The very next day, I realize what I'm doing isn't healthy anymore. It never was, but I was breaking on the outside. It has been 9 months, and I slept outside every night, eating nothing but pizza (and never became overweight. Don't ask me my secret, cause I don't know). I decided to call my father and tell him everything that happened between me and my mother. I never told him because I didn't want to stay with him. He is a good man. He really is. But he is a drunk, and has had a very, very hard life. I was the only thing good in his life, and I was scared he'd realize what I've become. Like I knew he would, he overreacted and insist I come live with him. If I went to live with him, I couldn't keep working at Cici's, which I did not want to leave, but I eventually agreed. He was moving soon, and I would move in with him to the new apartments and get a job at the Cici's in this location, and look towards a future in college.

Not a single day has passed where I don't feel the pain of Sarah being gone. I knew I put too much pressure on her. The pain I felt for her being gone was not only for her, but for the love I felt for my mother and father that is still void. She filled everything, and I know I shouldn't have put so much on her. I'm sorry.

And this is where things become even harder to believe. I still have this text message saved in my phone. Sarah texts me literally 5 days before I'm going to move in with my dad. I kid you not. She says, "I know you must hate me. But I heard what happened, with your mother I mean. You don't have to respond to this if you don't want to, I understand. But I'd like to see you if you're free." I memorized that text. I had entertained the idea of about 20 different encounters with her in my mind, only half where she walked away alive. I know. Sick. I know what I am. After a few hours of sitting in Cici's, I decide to text her back. "Yes. I have work in two hours. Can you meet me here?" "Yes" she responds. My heart and mind are no longer numb. They tingle, but with what, I don't know. I just accepted at this point that I was mostly just insane.

She arrives. Her hair was shorter than before, and it was died a blondish color. I can't say I liked it. But she was still beautiful. I didn't look her in the eyes, but I saw her coming from outside the window. She very timidly sat down. "Hey." She says.

"Hey."

"How are you?"

"Still breathing, I guess."

And of all the nasty things I wanted to say to her, I didn't hate her. I never hated her. I was never even angry at her. I was angry at myself for not being able to keep her. I blamed myself. There wasn't resentment when I spoke. And for the first time in a long time, I laughed. And she laughed. We spoke back and forth, like old times, for a whole hour and a half. We joked. We learned. And finally, I brought myself to ask the only question I didn't know the answer to.

"Can I ask you something? Seriously?"

She stiffened. She knew this was coming. She was well prepared. I almost have to applaud her, not many people can look me in the eye when they know what I can do. I could kill her with words alone. "Of course."

"Why now? Why contact me again?"

She thinks. "I heard you had left your mother. I was worried. And I knew you had many questions to ask me."

"I didn't have that much to ask. I understand why you left."

She blushed. More out of fear that embarrassment, I imagine. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. It's ok."

She has nothing to say,

"How are you and your boyfriend?"

She blushed more. "We're...I don't even know..." and she shrugged her shoulders.

"Yeah."

And I walked her to her car. I told her, "Even after all that's happened, I know the truth. One friend to another, you deserve the best, ok? Don't ever settle for less."

She looked up at me. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

"And one more thing!" I yell as she starts to drive away.

"Come and visit me again! It's ok. I'm always here, the people here won't mess with you when I'm here." (My coworkers HATE her for the way I am. It's not her fault. People are so naive.)

"I promise!"

"I'm holding you to it!!!!"

And she drove away, a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. I felt better. Much better. But not whole. I needed to see her again. There are things I needed to say again. Just a few last things, and then I could leave in peace.

For four days, I entertained the idea of saying what I need to. Four years of happiness, ten months of pain, all wrapping together in one last meeting, and then I could leave in peace. For four days, I felt happy again. I felt good, even being more lively at work.

The fifth day came around. I waited. And waited. All day. I had specifically asked for this day off to accommodate whatever time Sarah wanted to come and see me.


I waited.

I waited

I waited.

But no one came.

And now, I was the one with no one to dance to at my high school homecoming.

I texted her, "Where are you?"

"I'm busy. I'm off between 12-30 and 2 tomorrow though. I might have to take a phone call for work though."

And that was it. I broke again. She never came back to relieve my pain. She had her own burdens that she wanted to clear, and then she didn't have to come back. That was the second promise she broke to me. And I felt so, so hurt. Because I realized she didn't care about me. That after that hour and a half of reliving old times, it didn't feel so bad. And now it's gone. I didn't text her back. It wouldn't help, she needed to show some effort. What I needed to say no longer mattered or provided me any closure. I left with my drunk father, and now I am here. I celebrated my 18th birthday alone and in pain. Sometimes, I even have to come home to see him passed out, and I have to pick him up and bring him so his room. It's pitiful. I shouldn't have to babysit adults. And every day since, I have found it harder and harder to sleep, because at the same time every day, I feel the loneliness next to my bed. Because I know she's not happy either. And all I remember is when we were the best of friends. I relieve that happiness every day, soon followed by the pain. It's been almost a year, and I have no one to talk to about this. No one will listen. They say "get over it" or "go sleep with someone else" or "get a therapist". I used to have a therapist, but if you have one right now, you know how expensive they are. I am barely making enough to survive, working 80 hours a week.

That is my story. I know some people out there will say, "You are so young. You don't know what true love is." You know what? You're ******* right. I'm not naive to my ignorance. I know I'm young, and I don't argue that. But I have lived my own life. I have taken care of my parents. I have lost, been infatuated, had my share of sexual encounters, and found one that I know deep in my black heart that I loved more than anything. I have made my own adult decisions. I'm so scared to let it go, because I don't want to forget. We weren't just another high school couple. We made other couples jealous. We ruled our school. I prom-posed in front of the entire school with a trombone quartet I wrote just for her, played by our band, with PROM? writen in Hershy's kisses. Other people don't have that. We were the same person. We rode carriages together. We played songs together. We had so much fun together. Some married couples don't have that. And I am in so much pain, because I miss her, and THAT IS REAL. You CANT make that UP. My pain is REAL. My love is REAL.

I was not anywhere near perfect. I made so many mistakes, too. I'm so sorry.

Honestly, I don't think anything anyone can say can make me feel better. I know what I need to do, but i'm scared, because I don't want to forget her. She saved me. I loved her. I still love her. There hasn't been a day where I haven't thought of her, and that's not an exaggeration. I want closure, and I guess I was tired of sleepless nights, so I took tonight off to write this and hopefully feel better. Honestly, I don't know how I feel. I am crying. I know, I hate crying. Part of me wants her to read this so she understands. I think if she just understood, things would be better. that I might find peace, or at least be closer to it.

Anyways, if you're still with me, thank you for taking this emotional journey with me. You're a real trooper for sticking it out till the end. It is currently 5:40 am, and I still have to go back to do a quick spell check. Thank you. Have a good night.