reganmading

[reganmading]

Look Up To You

I think the reason I fell in love with you was because you never really loved me.

It’s a cliche, I know. But I think the reason I wanted you was because I couldn't have you.

I couldn't have you and your nickname that everyone calls you by, and me, standing out by calling you by your given name.

I couldn’t have you and your curly hair and looking up at you when you talk to me, craning my neck to look into your eyes, unconsciously making the decision to flirt with you by looking at your lips as you spewed some philosophical bullshit that I was tuning out.

I couldn’t have you and that car you love, or should I say, truck you love. You were always insistent about calling it a truck. I think it’s something to do with your dad.

You were leaving for college, the east coast, and I was staying home, west coast, to finish highschool.

You say we could have made it official if we were the same age, I think you were lying. But it did make me feel like I was Taylor Swift.

Ever since you left in August I walk by your house in the evenings, usually listening to something sad by Phoebe Bridgers or Gracie Abrams, you know, basic white girl stuff. I always hope your mom won't be out with your dog, though I’m not sure why. We never met.

I lied to my family for you, saying I was going out with Charlotte or Lola when really it was your car I was climbing into on Friday nights. Driving out to the football field during the offseason, you would chase me to the 50 yard line. I always loved how you could pick me up and lift me over your head.

But walking by your house and hanging out at the football field won't bring you back. God, why am I talking about you like you died, you’re just in Connecticut.

Then again, you always said living anywhere other than the city would be like dying. I agreed with you when you said that, even though I thought something different, I just wanted you to think I was smart. I always just said whatever you said in different wording. Like that time you were hating on reality tv, saying your mom is always in a bad mood after she finishes a housewives reunion, I love Bravo! but I wanted so badly for you to want me the way I wanted you. You never did, so that made me want you more.

I have this theory about the reason why girls want boys so badly, and why when they’re rejected, they can’t brush it off the way boys are able to. This theory is that men are meant to be women's protectors, and so when men reject women, women feel naked and afraid. Left in the wild west without protection.

That's how I felt the day you dropped me off for the last time. Saying goodbye forever. No winter break hookup, nothing. I cried that night silently as I layed in my bed, my parents couldn’t know I was sad, I never even told them you existed.

You started out as a pipe dream crush, me stalking you on Instagram and learning little tidbits about you, enough to form a half picture, that someone exactly aligned with who you actually were.

Kind of crazy, really.

I know the me I put on my Instagram definitely doesn't align with the me that you met.

I just realize you never followed me. Never tell your friends about me.

I gushed to my friends about you, called you “college boy” cause it made me feel cool, special, superior.

That's all a teenage girl wants really, to be the coolest in her friend group.

Maybe you served a function for me, maybe I wanted you because you somehow elevated me, both when you were lifting me and when my feet were planted softly on the ground.

Maybe I loved you because you protected me. Because I had to look up to you.

But you never really looked me in the eye.

I filled a void, a girl for the summer, but I meant nothing to you. I know that now.

I have a new boy. This time he’s just “high school boy” not “college boy.” He’s my own age and my parents know about him. They like him, but his hair is straight and he’s only slightly taller than me. He can’t lift me over his head and he never chases me. He lets me take my time and nothing he does ever catches me by surprise. He makes it clear that he likes me.

I would’ve picked you over him anytime. I think he loves me the way that I love you, and I like him the way you liked me. It feels nice to hold the power.

Is that how it felt when you swept me off my feet and threw me into the hotel pool? That I was your ragdoll, expendable and able to be thrown and tossed in every which way.

You have a new girl. She looks vaguely like me, brown hair flowing down her back. She really is just like me. Or maybe she isn't. Maybe it's just in my head that we look alike. Maybe she's my polar opposite.

You have no idea what I’m up to now. You don't follow me on Instagram, don't text me anymore, the only social media you have me on is Snapchat and I don't really post on there.

I miss you, I miss looking up to you.