High School Sweethearts

 By: Basilia Vega 

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I’m investigating old photos to find the day, moment, or night that I made you unhappy. I never had much to offer in the beginning and yet we fell head over heels for each other. Well, that was thirty pounds ago, which makes me now a heavier weight on your shoulders, and I’m sorry.

To admit, I was newly a lesbian. I hopped the fence to the women side the moment I first met you (which was the reason I kept staring.) At a young fifteen years of age, my heart was struck by your big brown eyes and your big, bouncy red curls. Your laugh showed your dimples and your hoops always hinted me your glare from time to time. You had a boyfriend and I fell in love. Maybe that’s where it got complicated.

But I didn’t care. I wanted you to myself and I didn’t know having an older lover had some responsibilities. Picking up a job, actually going to school and college. All I was thinking about is whether to go with Nike or Puma cleats.

I needed to become a partner and lover that could carry our life along and not be the one to drag it by balls and chains. My motivation is gone. The last time I was ever motivated to impress at a first impression was to you. My depression is back. The last time I wasn’t depressed was when your lips embraced mine and your eyes told me that you were in love with me. I pushed that away.

I don’t regret anything but hurting you. My high school sweet heart, if I were to see what I have become now, I would have given you a flash warning. You don’t deserve someone selfish, fat and lazy like me. And for that, I’m sorry.

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