iRegret.net

When I was in eleventh grade, my boyfriend of two years went off to college, and we said we’d stay together — “make it work” — “talk on the phone” — and we did, at first.  And everything seemd fine.  He came home to visit, lavished me with affection and promises of future adventures.  One day I just stopped calling him back.  I don’t really know why.  I was seventeen years old and smoking a lot of pot and dropping acid and hanging out with whoever seemed cool that week.  I had no sense of loyalty or longevity, and I just stopped answering his calls, and never called back.  I listened to dozens of messages: “Where are you?”  “Is everything ok?  Just let me know you’re ok?”  “Did I do something?”  “Are you mad at me?”  “Are you in the hospital?”  “This is the last time I’ll call.”  But I just never called back.  Honestly, I just didn’t feel like it.  I wasn’t mad.  I just stopped caring, so much so that I didn’t even have the will to pick up the phone and say so.  And we never spoke again.  I ran into him at a party two years later, and when he saw me he looked me in the eye for about five seconds and then just looked away.  That was the end of it.  Now that I’ve been though some shit, and know what it means to love and be hurt by love, I’ve felt terrible about treating someone like that.  I’m sorry, Jim.

Submitted by: Lady J