VampHeartless
DIS Veteran
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2004
- Messages
- 940
You know how sometimes you just have those reminiscent nights?
Well, I was doing some cleaning tonight, and found a lot of my exfiances things; letters she had written me, gifts she gave me, personal items, pictures. So now, I'm having one those nights, and I've decided to share this bittersweet melancholy with my friends at the DIS. This, my friends, is one of the many reasons I am lonely, and call myself VampHeartless.
She was a beautiful girl once upon a time. Her name was Sarah, and We used to take care of her at my fathers daycare. She was six, and I was eleven. There were four and a half years between us. Not a huge deal between two adults, but a pretty big distance for a kindergartner and a preteen. Still, Sarah always had a huge crush on me, and I knew it, and I was always there to be her knight in shining armor.
The thing about Sarah and I, is we both come from somewhat tormented pasts. I've been unlucky enough to know the horrors of abuse the likes of which would make most people want to kill themselves. My mother was a drug addict and committed violence on me as a newborn, gruesome enough to make a grown man cry. And, I suffered even more from my father as I grew. Unfortunately, Sarah, at the daycare, suffered from him as well. Not to mention her own alchoholic parents and abusive relationships with them.
It didn't end at home either. For some reason, Sarah has been tormented constantly, her entire life. Maybe it's because she was such a pretty girl, or maybe because she was tough as nails, but for some reason, she was the target of every neighborhood bully we knew. They would burn her with cigarettes, slice her with pocket knives, and even push her out of trees and break her arms. I would try so hard to defend her, but, I wonder now if that made her even more of a target.
One bully in particular, a rough kid named Mitch, beat up Sarah and my little brother routinely, and I in turn beat him up routinely. But, it was one these interludes that led to Sarah and my first kiss.
He came over talking crap as usual. For all the times I shoved his face in the dirt, this kid was insistent that he knew karate and could kill me. Sarah, big mouth and first to rush to my defense as always, started telling him off. One thing about Sarah, she would never mince words. After my father beat me one night, she cussed him out for it, at only eight years old.
Mitch finally had enough of her loud mouth, and ran up to Sarah, and pushed her. He knew I was going after him immediatly, and didn't waste time going into a sprint. It took about half a block for me to chase him down, and a couple more breathes to beat his face in. Sarah's redemption complete, I went back to check on the poor crying girl, laying in the front yard. She seemed so sad, and one thing I knew would always cheer Sarah up, was being tickled.
So, I proceeded to tickle the snot out of the young girl, who giggled with mock anger. Then, before I could react or compose myself, the little eight year old Sarah grabbed my face with both hands and planted a big wet one right on my lips.
"Ewwwwwwwwwww!!!!" All the other kids shouted.
I ran inside and told my step-mom and dad on her. She didn't get in trouble, they just laughed at us. Thus ended our romantic involvement for the next eight years.
We were still good friends though. She entered junior high, while I was in the high school across the street. We took the same bus, and Sarah was nervous about sitting alone. So, naturally, I let her sit next to me, and we had great times on the bus rides home, talking about school, and tickle fighting. I would teach her as much as I could about life. She didn't have many authority figures, and I always tried to be one, which is fine when your dealing with a little ten year old girl...but a world of difference when your dealing with the woman you're going to marry.
I entered the Army in July of 1998, and didn't see Sarah for a good year or more. She moved across the street from us in junior high, but in the lost few weeks was too sad and shy to say goodbye. Sarah was the kind of girl, she would let you see her cry, but she wouldn't let you see her really hurt.
I met my first serious girlfriend, Angie, in AIT. Sarah was none too happy about this, but wouldn't reveal any of it to me until a couple years later. Angie cheated on me, left me with my first broken heart, and so I went home to recuperate. It was during this "soul-searching" trip home, that my brother told me to answer the door.
It was a surprise.
There, on my front porch, about a two feet taller, and with alot more shape then I ever remembered, was the most beautiful woman I may possibly ever see. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I never forgot about Sarah, and I always imagined her growing up cute, and coming back to me exactly how she was on that porch, but, in reality she was just simply too amazing to picture. My heart has never recovered from that moment.
Unfortunately there was still one problem. I was 20.
That meant she was only 16.
Still, she had definitely matured since I had left. Enough that she was comfortable in finally admitting the secret crush she had for years. We both knew she was still too young. She would constantly ask how I felt about her, and I would tell her time and again, she was 16, and she would have to wait two more years to ask me. She knew the answer, I knew the answer, but she really needed to hear it from me, which I refused to do until I knew she had a chance to grow and live a normal teenage life.
I walked Sarah to school everyday for the entire two weeks I was home on leave. While I spent our youth trying to heal Sarah's emotional wounds and cure her heart, she spent her teenage years trying to fix mine. I left home without a thought of Angie, a packet of letters Sarah had saved up over the years but never sent in a pink envelope, and a surprise kiss to end our final walk together...just like the one she gave me eight years earlier.
We began to write letters after that. At first her Mom objected, but gradually caved. Sarah would write the most beautiful love letters. I would get romantic at times, but restrained myself. I remember the sting of the failed relationship with Angie, and that fear kept me strong as I tried to keep from revealing my innermost feelings to someone who was way too young to handle them.
Then Arlene, and Pete came along. Sarah was going through a difficult time back home. Her Mother was becoming addicted to drugs, and many of her friends. In younger days, I would have been her support, her rock to carry her through these things. Unfortunately, I stumbled upon a beautiful young soldier named Arlene, who completely drove my attention away from Sarah. It was a shame, because Arlene was cruel, heartless, and almost ruined my life completely, but at that moment, I was none the wiser. For the first time in both our lives, Sarah was at her lowest point, and I was not there to carry her along.
Sarah found Pete. I don't know much about him...nor have I ever really cared too, being as he was dating the woman I loved. I do know, however, that he joined the Army, and broke her heart as he found a new woman in AIT. Up until that point Sarah had been a straight A honor student, member of the JROTC, Choir, and cheerleader. But, her family's problems and her first heartbreak, began to send her into a downward spiral.
My brother tried to fulfill my role with Sarah while I focused my attention on Arlene. Unfortunately, he has always liked Sarah, while she has always been mildly repulsed by him. I tried to hook them up, but she was adamant it would not happen. Then, I did the unthinkable. At home, on leave, with wounded emotions between us, Sarah and I found another again. This time, at the expense of my younger brothers broken heart.
There was brief turmoil in the family. People took sides, some with Tim, some with me. In the middle of this, Sarah and I began to forge a bond stronger than ever before. She was only seventeen, and I was twenty-one. We had both been with other lovers, but on a cool December night, she pinned me down and said she wasn't leaving until I told her one way or the other. I did. I couldn't let myself lose her again.
I told her I loved her, more than I have ever loved any woman. And, looking back now, possibly more than I ever shall. Then, we kissed. Sarah healed my wounded heart once more. We made love. I felt guilty at first, but then realized, that night was one of the most important experiences I have ever had. It's one thing to have sex with a person...a whole another to have sex with someone you've known and loved your whole life.
We walked to school together as had become tradition at this point. We discussed the future and the past. I read her some of the poetry I had written about her while I was away in the army. She admitted to watching me on the porch outside our house from her bedroom, as I sometimes wrote it.
Soon after, we established a formal relationship. I hated the thought of going out with a teenager, but I hated even more the thought of her drifting away. Sarah's life was fast becoming turmoil. Her parents were now fully divorced, but fought over custody. Several times Sarah was abused by her mother and her mother's boyfriend. He even attempted to molest her one night, which she then painfully had to attest to in court.
Somewhere in the middle of this, she turned to alcohol, and to smoking, and to drugs, and to sex, and to any other form of debauchery you could think of. I wasn't worried at first. Sarah always had a grandiose way of exaggerating about her, and a penchant for melodrama.
The relationship got worse though. Having known the sting of Arlene and Angie, I was much more afraid to give my heart to Sarah that my previous, care-free loves. I would get jealous and accusatory whenever she began to talk about other guys. I made fun of the way she acted, the clubs she joined. In reality, I had finally won the heart of the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and instead of defending her and helping her as I always had, I was feeding her depression; pushing her into the shame spiral the would eventually consume her. Towards the end, the girl was becoming near sociopathic.
She cheated.
We broke up.
For the first time in my life, I made a clean break from a relationship. The first time we split, I wasn't scared, or even sad. It had been in the works for so many months. I felt a tinge of longing for the girl I once knew and loved, but a part of me realized that she had grown, and changed.
Still, another part of me was convinced that the beauty I once knew was still there, contained under this soulfully mourning shell that contained such a fragile tortured creature. Home on leave again, in December, I looked upon her hardened, but still lovely face, and knew I had to at least try to help her. I vowed to be the man I once was to her, to love and care for her until she knew things would be alright again.
So, I proposed. She talked me into it, really. I'm not sure why, because it would end a couple months later. Maybe she just wanted to know the feeling. Maybe, she was just wanted to think, that once in her life someone cared enough to do that for her.
Hell, maybe she just wanted the ring. Who knows?
But, I am in the Army. Being in the Army meant being far away from Sarah for the majority of our time. It's damn near impossible to help someone that far off the edge even when you're with them, let alone a thousand miles away. The more I tried to be the guiding force in Sarah's life I once was, the more she pushed away from me. Leading a platoon of thirty soldiers is a piece of cake. Leading one confused addicted abused 18 year old little girl is damn near impossible.
We split a few months later. It was Sarah's choice. She said some things about me being too critical, not understanding her, remaining an "emotional enigma" as she called it. I remember, for two days thinking, God destined this woman for me, and I will never see her again. I will never love another.
But, I suppose my heart has grown a bit stern and weary over time. I don't know how else to explain it other than to say I moved on for the most part. I've dated a couple times since, but no serious relationships. I've been holding out for something as special as Sarah, and I don't know if she will ever happen. I had my chance at a fairy tale once, and instead of saving the princess, I trashed her, drove her to despair, and left her there.
I saw her once more, at my grandmother's funeral last year. She had put on some weight, and was slightly tipsy. We went downstairs and laid on the bed together. It was another tradition of ours; Sarah and I always had great pillow talk with one another. She talked about how her boyfriends were all doing drugs, and how she was going out with this 40 year old construction worker who was nice but "is about the size of my pinky". I noticed her eyes were bloodshot, red and puffy. We had the usual talk about getting back together. I told her the minute she asked, I would sweep her away from all this, and take care of her like I always have.
She smiled at the thought, and said she was always thinking about it.
That was the last I ever heard of Sarah.
She disappeared three months later.
I know that her father kicked her out of the house finally, and that she dropped out of high school My brother has heard rumors that she was living with some old man who got her pregnant. My father says she's selling pot with her friends on Portland Road a couple blocks away. Counting my mother, thats the second cherished woman Ive lost in my life to drugs and alcohol.
Whatever Sarahs doing, it's not what she could have been. She was a beautiful, smart, strong, young woman. While I don't take the full blame in her destruction, I feel partly responsible. I should have been her support, loved her at all costs. For once in my life, I had a beautiful woman, and a wonderful epic romance, that I helped destroy out of fear and selfishness.
And that, my friends, is why I am Heartless.
Now, I have collected all my memories of Sarah, from cleaning around the house, and put them into a little box. It has been almost a year since I've last heard from the love of my young life. I keep telling myself I've moved on, but whenever I see this stuff, or a picture of her, or a memory in a passing dream, I want to cry sad tears. I think, the only way to move on, is to get rid of these things...but to do so is to lose such a passionate feeling forever. I'm not sure if even I have the strength to do that. So...what do my friends here think?
Thank you for reading my tale...I hope you all have found it interesting.
Well, I was doing some cleaning tonight, and found a lot of my exfiances things; letters she had written me, gifts she gave me, personal items, pictures. So now, I'm having one those nights, and I've decided to share this bittersweet melancholy with my friends at the DIS. This, my friends, is one of the many reasons I am lonely, and call myself VampHeartless.
She was a beautiful girl once upon a time. Her name was Sarah, and We used to take care of her at my fathers daycare. She was six, and I was eleven. There were four and a half years between us. Not a huge deal between two adults, but a pretty big distance for a kindergartner and a preteen. Still, Sarah always had a huge crush on me, and I knew it, and I was always there to be her knight in shining armor.
The thing about Sarah and I, is we both come from somewhat tormented pasts. I've been unlucky enough to know the horrors of abuse the likes of which would make most people want to kill themselves. My mother was a drug addict and committed violence on me as a newborn, gruesome enough to make a grown man cry. And, I suffered even more from my father as I grew. Unfortunately, Sarah, at the daycare, suffered from him as well. Not to mention her own alchoholic parents and abusive relationships with them.
It didn't end at home either. For some reason, Sarah has been tormented constantly, her entire life. Maybe it's because she was such a pretty girl, or maybe because she was tough as nails, but for some reason, she was the target of every neighborhood bully we knew. They would burn her with cigarettes, slice her with pocket knives, and even push her out of trees and break her arms. I would try so hard to defend her, but, I wonder now if that made her even more of a target.
One bully in particular, a rough kid named Mitch, beat up Sarah and my little brother routinely, and I in turn beat him up routinely. But, it was one these interludes that led to Sarah and my first kiss.
He came over talking crap as usual. For all the times I shoved his face in the dirt, this kid was insistent that he knew karate and could kill me. Sarah, big mouth and first to rush to my defense as always, started telling him off. One thing about Sarah, she would never mince words. After my father beat me one night, she cussed him out for it, at only eight years old.
Mitch finally had enough of her loud mouth, and ran up to Sarah, and pushed her. He knew I was going after him immediatly, and didn't waste time going into a sprint. It took about half a block for me to chase him down, and a couple more breathes to beat his face in. Sarah's redemption complete, I went back to check on the poor crying girl, laying in the front yard. She seemed so sad, and one thing I knew would always cheer Sarah up, was being tickled.
So, I proceeded to tickle the snot out of the young girl, who giggled with mock anger. Then, before I could react or compose myself, the little eight year old Sarah grabbed my face with both hands and planted a big wet one right on my lips.
"Ewwwwwwwwwww!!!!" All the other kids shouted.
I ran inside and told my step-mom and dad on her. She didn't get in trouble, they just laughed at us. Thus ended our romantic involvement for the next eight years.
We were still good friends though. She entered junior high, while I was in the high school across the street. We took the same bus, and Sarah was nervous about sitting alone. So, naturally, I let her sit next to me, and we had great times on the bus rides home, talking about school, and tickle fighting. I would teach her as much as I could about life. She didn't have many authority figures, and I always tried to be one, which is fine when your dealing with a little ten year old girl...but a world of difference when your dealing with the woman you're going to marry.
I entered the Army in July of 1998, and didn't see Sarah for a good year or more. She moved across the street from us in junior high, but in the lost few weeks was too sad and shy to say goodbye. Sarah was the kind of girl, she would let you see her cry, but she wouldn't let you see her really hurt.
I met my first serious girlfriend, Angie, in AIT. Sarah was none too happy about this, but wouldn't reveal any of it to me until a couple years later. Angie cheated on me, left me with my first broken heart, and so I went home to recuperate. It was during this "soul-searching" trip home, that my brother told me to answer the door.
It was a surprise.
There, on my front porch, about a two feet taller, and with alot more shape then I ever remembered, was the most beautiful woman I may possibly ever see. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I never forgot about Sarah, and I always imagined her growing up cute, and coming back to me exactly how she was on that porch, but, in reality she was just simply too amazing to picture. My heart has never recovered from that moment.
Unfortunately there was still one problem. I was 20.
That meant she was only 16.
Still, she had definitely matured since I had left. Enough that she was comfortable in finally admitting the secret crush she had for years. We both knew she was still too young. She would constantly ask how I felt about her, and I would tell her time and again, she was 16, and she would have to wait two more years to ask me. She knew the answer, I knew the answer, but she really needed to hear it from me, which I refused to do until I knew she had a chance to grow and live a normal teenage life.
I walked Sarah to school everyday for the entire two weeks I was home on leave. While I spent our youth trying to heal Sarah's emotional wounds and cure her heart, she spent her teenage years trying to fix mine. I left home without a thought of Angie, a packet of letters Sarah had saved up over the years but never sent in a pink envelope, and a surprise kiss to end our final walk together...just like the one she gave me eight years earlier.
We began to write letters after that. At first her Mom objected, but gradually caved. Sarah would write the most beautiful love letters. I would get romantic at times, but restrained myself. I remember the sting of the failed relationship with Angie, and that fear kept me strong as I tried to keep from revealing my innermost feelings to someone who was way too young to handle them.
Then Arlene, and Pete came along. Sarah was going through a difficult time back home. Her Mother was becoming addicted to drugs, and many of her friends. In younger days, I would have been her support, her rock to carry her through these things. Unfortunately, I stumbled upon a beautiful young soldier named Arlene, who completely drove my attention away from Sarah. It was a shame, because Arlene was cruel, heartless, and almost ruined my life completely, but at that moment, I was none the wiser. For the first time in both our lives, Sarah was at her lowest point, and I was not there to carry her along.
Sarah found Pete. I don't know much about him...nor have I ever really cared too, being as he was dating the woman I loved. I do know, however, that he joined the Army, and broke her heart as he found a new woman in AIT. Up until that point Sarah had been a straight A honor student, member of the JROTC, Choir, and cheerleader. But, her family's problems and her first heartbreak, began to send her into a downward spiral.
My brother tried to fulfill my role with Sarah while I focused my attention on Arlene. Unfortunately, he has always liked Sarah, while she has always been mildly repulsed by him. I tried to hook them up, but she was adamant it would not happen. Then, I did the unthinkable. At home, on leave, with wounded emotions between us, Sarah and I found another again. This time, at the expense of my younger brothers broken heart.
There was brief turmoil in the family. People took sides, some with Tim, some with me. In the middle of this, Sarah and I began to forge a bond stronger than ever before. She was only seventeen, and I was twenty-one. We had both been with other lovers, but on a cool December night, she pinned me down and said she wasn't leaving until I told her one way or the other. I did. I couldn't let myself lose her again.
I told her I loved her, more than I have ever loved any woman. And, looking back now, possibly more than I ever shall. Then, we kissed. Sarah healed my wounded heart once more. We made love. I felt guilty at first, but then realized, that night was one of the most important experiences I have ever had. It's one thing to have sex with a person...a whole another to have sex with someone you've known and loved your whole life.
We walked to school together as had become tradition at this point. We discussed the future and the past. I read her some of the poetry I had written about her while I was away in the army. She admitted to watching me on the porch outside our house from her bedroom, as I sometimes wrote it.
Soon after, we established a formal relationship. I hated the thought of going out with a teenager, but I hated even more the thought of her drifting away. Sarah's life was fast becoming turmoil. Her parents were now fully divorced, but fought over custody. Several times Sarah was abused by her mother and her mother's boyfriend. He even attempted to molest her one night, which she then painfully had to attest to in court.
Somewhere in the middle of this, she turned to alcohol, and to smoking, and to drugs, and to sex, and to any other form of debauchery you could think of. I wasn't worried at first. Sarah always had a grandiose way of exaggerating about her, and a penchant for melodrama.
The relationship got worse though. Having known the sting of Arlene and Angie, I was much more afraid to give my heart to Sarah that my previous, care-free loves. I would get jealous and accusatory whenever she began to talk about other guys. I made fun of the way she acted, the clubs she joined. In reality, I had finally won the heart of the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and instead of defending her and helping her as I always had, I was feeding her depression; pushing her into the shame spiral the would eventually consume her. Towards the end, the girl was becoming near sociopathic.
She cheated.
We broke up.
For the first time in my life, I made a clean break from a relationship. The first time we split, I wasn't scared, or even sad. It had been in the works for so many months. I felt a tinge of longing for the girl I once knew and loved, but a part of me realized that she had grown, and changed.
Still, another part of me was convinced that the beauty I once knew was still there, contained under this soulfully mourning shell that contained such a fragile tortured creature. Home on leave again, in December, I looked upon her hardened, but still lovely face, and knew I had to at least try to help her. I vowed to be the man I once was to her, to love and care for her until she knew things would be alright again.
So, I proposed. She talked me into it, really. I'm not sure why, because it would end a couple months later. Maybe she just wanted to know the feeling. Maybe, she was just wanted to think, that once in her life someone cared enough to do that for her.
Hell, maybe she just wanted the ring. Who knows?
But, I am in the Army. Being in the Army meant being far away from Sarah for the majority of our time. It's damn near impossible to help someone that far off the edge even when you're with them, let alone a thousand miles away. The more I tried to be the guiding force in Sarah's life I once was, the more she pushed away from me. Leading a platoon of thirty soldiers is a piece of cake. Leading one confused addicted abused 18 year old little girl is damn near impossible.
We split a few months later. It was Sarah's choice. She said some things about me being too critical, not understanding her, remaining an "emotional enigma" as she called it. I remember, for two days thinking, God destined this woman for me, and I will never see her again. I will never love another.
But, I suppose my heart has grown a bit stern and weary over time. I don't know how else to explain it other than to say I moved on for the most part. I've dated a couple times since, but no serious relationships. I've been holding out for something as special as Sarah, and I don't know if she will ever happen. I had my chance at a fairy tale once, and instead of saving the princess, I trashed her, drove her to despair, and left her there.
I saw her once more, at my grandmother's funeral last year. She had put on some weight, and was slightly tipsy. We went downstairs and laid on the bed together. It was another tradition of ours; Sarah and I always had great pillow talk with one another. She talked about how her boyfriends were all doing drugs, and how she was going out with this 40 year old construction worker who was nice but "is about the size of my pinky". I noticed her eyes were bloodshot, red and puffy. We had the usual talk about getting back together. I told her the minute she asked, I would sweep her away from all this, and take care of her like I always have.
She smiled at the thought, and said she was always thinking about it.
That was the last I ever heard of Sarah.
She disappeared three months later.
I know that her father kicked her out of the house finally, and that she dropped out of high school My brother has heard rumors that she was living with some old man who got her pregnant. My father says she's selling pot with her friends on Portland Road a couple blocks away. Counting my mother, thats the second cherished woman Ive lost in my life to drugs and alcohol.
Whatever Sarahs doing, it's not what she could have been. She was a beautiful, smart, strong, young woman. While I don't take the full blame in her destruction, I feel partly responsible. I should have been her support, loved her at all costs. For once in my life, I had a beautiful woman, and a wonderful epic romance, that I helped destroy out of fear and selfishness.
And that, my friends, is why I am Heartless.
Now, I have collected all my memories of Sarah, from cleaning around the house, and put them into a little box. It has been almost a year since I've last heard from the love of my young life. I keep telling myself I've moved on, but whenever I see this stuff, or a picture of her, or a memory in a passing dream, I want to cry sad tears. I think, the only way to move on, is to get rid of these things...but to do so is to lose such a passionate feeling forever. I'm not sure if even I have the strength to do that. So...what do my friends here think?
Thank you for reading my tale...I hope you all have found it interesting.
I could tell you some horror stories of guys from my past VH. Trust me, the best thing I ever did was forget about them, and move forward. Otherwise, you'll never be happy and whoever you're dating will sense that and sense why.
