Dear Julie
Julie Skinner
Issue date: 3/4/10 Section: News
I used to be queen of the cold shoulder when a love interest hurt me. I could give the silent treatment until the end of time, and never feel an ounce of guilt or regret for it. I'm still stubborn, but not near as bad as I used to be. When I decided in my head that I was moving on from a person or situation, I never, ever looked back. However, sometimes I was too quick to burn bridges …and would carry that bitterness along with me, tucked neatly away in the pit of my stomach. Still, I had no trouble cutting people out of my life forever, and had even less trouble going the rest of my life without speaking to them again. Well, that all changed about a year and three months ago.
Even when I'm absolutely exhausted, I'll usually wake up to the sound of a ringing phone. This particular morning, I slept through about nineteen phone calls on my cell phone, and possibly ten or more on the phone at my apartment. When I finally did wake up, and answered the next ring I heard, I got the devastating news that my high school boyfriend had passed away.
Unless you're experiencing it, it's hard to compare the feeling to anything else. But I'll try. Imagine a hive of bees exploding in your throat. Imagine every ounce of blood in your body rushing to your ankles. Imagine concrete blocks being thrown on your chest. Imagine rubber bands wrapped around your rib cage. Imagine watching the most horrifying car wreck, and having absolutely no way to stop it.
Actually, don't imagine any of that. Chances are you know exactly the feeling I'm talking about. And if you don't, I hope you never do.
This high school boyfriend and I had grown up just a couple of miles from each other. We were friends in elementary school, and then became the best of friends in middle school. When high school rolled around, we began to date. He was hilarious in every way. He could do the best Jim Carrey impression ever, and was a pro at making even the most lemon-mouthed teacher laugh out loud. He made one hell of a blueberry pancake, and never went two weeks without bringing me a bouquet of handpicked flowers. He could catch a fish with next to nothing on his hook, and he never hesitated to hand out a compliment. He always meant what he said.
Even when I'm absolutely exhausted, I'll usually wake up to the sound of a ringing phone. This particular morning, I slept through about nineteen phone calls on my cell phone, and possibly ten or more on the phone at my apartment. When I finally did wake up, and answered the next ring I heard, I got the devastating news that my high school boyfriend had passed away.
Unless you're experiencing it, it's hard to compare the feeling to anything else. But I'll try. Imagine a hive of bees exploding in your throat. Imagine every ounce of blood in your body rushing to your ankles. Imagine concrete blocks being thrown on your chest. Imagine rubber bands wrapped around your rib cage. Imagine watching the most horrifying car wreck, and having absolutely no way to stop it.
Actually, don't imagine any of that. Chances are you know exactly the feeling I'm talking about. And if you don't, I hope you never do.
This high school boyfriend and I had grown up just a couple of miles from each other. We were friends in elementary school, and then became the best of friends in middle school. When high school rolled around, we began to date. He was hilarious in every way. He could do the best Jim Carrey impression ever, and was a pro at making even the most lemon-mouthed teacher laugh out loud. He made one hell of a blueberry pancake, and never went two weeks without bringing me a bouquet of handpicked flowers. He could catch a fish with next to nothing on his hook, and he never hesitated to hand out a compliment. He always meant what he said.
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