LifeStory by Hannah
Visit her blog “She’s In The Band”
I am now, was then, and probably always will be your typical teenage girl.
Alright, the jig is up, I’m twenty now but something tells me I’ll always be the same obsessive, slightly impulsive 18-year-old. I attach myself to people and things easily, have serious abandonment issues, and have a tendency to swing my mood back and forth like a 9-year-old going after a pinata, but it took three long years of misery and obsession to turn me into the best possible version of myself. This story is about love, heartbreak, and wading through all the bullshit to figure out who you really are.
I met him on my 17th birthday. I was hooked immediately. He was interesting, attractive, with just a hint of tragedy. Perfect for me. I love a sense of mystery and the idea of being someone’s go-to girl. We got continued to talk until I entertained the delusion of him actually sharing any kind of mutual feelings for me, and that’s where our downward spiral begins.
He quickly became one of my closest friends. I always wanted to be around him, and hear what he had to say. I began molding myself into the type of person I was sure he’d appreciate, and maybe one day love. As the days, months, years progressed, I was so far off from the person I had been pre-boy that I had unknowingly burned several bridges between friends and family in the process.
I became obsessed. I have been a musician all my life, though admittedly, I only began writing my own music the year I met him. At first it was a simple ploy to get his attention, but I soon fell in love with a little instrument and the idea of expressing myself. However, no matter how much joy I got from playing ukulele, every song I wrote was packed to the brim with references to him and I and what I wanted from this seemingly meaningful relationship.
Remember when I said I became obsessed? Multiply that by about one hundred. My mood, my life, my well-being was completely dependent on him. The days we didn’t speak were the days I cried. The days we argued were the worst. The day he didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday and therefore ruined the day altogether for me was the day I decided I couldn’t do this anymore.
I know I’m a girl, and I know this is a typical story of your “first love” and how it almost never works out the way you want it to, but I do have to mention that aside from parts and placement, I’m the furthest thing from a girl you will ever meet. I get tattooed, hang out with boys, and stare at eyeliner pencils and mascara brushes with the most horrifyingly confused look on my face. The idea of feeling this attached to someone was as foreign to me as the inside of a compact.
To put it gently, he destroyed me.
At the end, I was the worst possible version of myself; sort of the Terminator-Hannah, ready to tear down the walls of my independence one bazooka at a time. I decided it was time to say so long to dream-boy and hello to building everything back the way it should be.
After a few months of removing him from my life, and keeping the communication waves silent, it dawned on me; being happy is NOT difficult. All it takes is firmly planted feet, and three words that have become a household phrase, thanks to Nike: “Just do it.”
Upon realizing that I, in fact, was the moderator of my own feelings and emotions, the world opened up to me. I found that there are plenty of other things to write songs about. I began to discover who I really was as a person. I discovered that a lot of the things he despises are things I adore. Like feta cheese. Man, I love feta cheese.
It’s been over a year now, and I finally, for the first time in my 20-something years on earth, love who I am. It’s not from a place of arrogance or narcissism, rather just a place of living life. I’m learning new things about myself every single day and even more so learning how to embrace all of them for what they are: me.
Did I ever get my happy ending and get my dream guy? Nope. But we’re currently just friends with no intentions of changing the game. Has this been your typical teenage story of heartbreak and woe? Yes, but ideally it inspires all you obsessive, slightly neurotic, but incredibly unique women out there to keep yourselves happy before anyone else. No matter how much you love someone, don’t compromise your own story to merely have a cameo in theirs.
In the wise words of every Nike commercial for the last decade or two, on the subject of keeping yourself happy and making yourself the best possible version of yourself: just do it.
