The first boy I ever had a crush on died last year. I feel bad because I didn’t know until a few weeks ago. We were of course friends on Facebook. Unfortunately he perpetually posted insane conspiracy theories and rants that drove me nuts. So I did the thing where you stop getting notifications but you’re technically still friends or some shit like that.

He had plenty of problems that he didn’t keep to himself. I think social media lets you put things out from yourself you can’t verbalize. He said he wanted to kill himself…I wrote back telling him not to and just laying my shit out on the table as an idea to follow. You know, the guidebook to medicated numbness. I remember a friend of his whom I didn’t know liked my post. I figured that might have added some weight to the suggestion. I have no idea of course.

In another cry for help he even posted his phone number. I’m a heart on the sleeve kind of girl anyways so how could I not? I texted the number and said I hoped he was well and doing better. He said thanks and wanted to know who I was. I instantly felt foolish and said I was too embarrassed to say it was me. (I told my friend what I did and she thought I was fucking nuts) It’s not like we spoke regularly or where part of each other’s lives. I was just a forgettable girl he went to school with for twelve years. At least that’s how I see it.



It was 1995 and the Halloween party in my sixth grade class. He was this dirty-blonde boy with the bowl haircut and glasses. His idol was Kurt Cobain and I was in no way cool enough to know who that was. He came dressed up in a cheerleader’s uniform and a blonde wig. Can you believe that? 1995. I was very smitten. He was brave and listened to cool music and knew things I didn’t.

Later that year, a boy—Daniel Parks—came up to me on the playground and said Mike wanted to ask me to be his girlfriend. After I felt my cheeks redden I said yes I would, this was the best thing that had ever happened to me. It was all a big joke. Mike had never wanted to ask me anything…Daniel liked making people feel like shit.

I remember still talking to Mike until about seventh grade and after that people just got lost in the school changes and adding more kids. No one really has a relationship until they’re much older and know what the fuck to say to people. And even then I guess it’s not guaranteed. It’s easy to remember the first person you ever liked though. I liked a boy who dressed as a girl from a Nirvana video in sixth grade.



From what I gathered, he drank himself to death. I know some alcoholics. It’s hard to fight when you’re not really interested in fighting it. And nowadays I wouldn’t hold it against anyone. You can plaster all the buses you want with PSAs but sometimes being sad is stronger than anything else in this whole fucking world. I know he left some family and a niece or two. I should have just had the balls to text him who I was. I would never presume to think I could have swayed his outcome in any way. There’s only one person who could have done that—him.

I just wasn’t ever his type of girl…no matter how much I wished I were.

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