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Recovering from a Broken Heart

Writer, Age 15

Last summer, the summer before 9th grade when I was 14 years old, I met Matt*, 17, who I thought was the man of my dreams. When I was in 7th grade, I had seen him around school and always wondered about him. I just watched him from afar thinking there was no way a popular, hot boy like him would ever be interested in simple, unpopular me. I even wrote his phone number in my phone book.

When I saw him on the bus last summer my heart literally stopped. Him and his other adorable skateboarder friends came and sat by me on the bus. Matt sat by me and gazed at me with his large blue eyes. We never said one word to each other, but I knew there was some kind of connection.

Five days later at 10:00 pm I wrote, “I love Matt” on a scratch paper, and about six seconds later the phone rang. My dad handed me the phone and said, “It’s a boy.” My first thought was who? No boys ever call me.

The boy ended up being Matt. We had the most wonderful conversation with no awkward pauses. When I got off the phone I was in a daze. I couldn’t believe he had called me, I was so happy. He was the first boy who had ever really showed interest in me. To this day I still don’t know where he got my phone number. For about a week we talked on the phone every night.

Finally we made plans to meet at the skateboard park and to go see a movie. That was one of the best days of my life. For about another week we talked on the phone without doing anything. I was falling head over heels for this guy. He would tell me everything about him, like childhood stories, how he watched “Ten Things I Hate About You” eight times in the movie theater and how he has to watch “Dawson’s Creek” every Wednesday.

When I went over to his house he handed me his Snoopy stuffed animal from when he was a kid and said, “If you need anything, just ask Snoopy.” This guy seemed like the sweetest guy on earth.

After that we met a few more times at the skateboard park. As I walked up to the skateboard park he would stand on the quarter pipe and in front of all of his friends he would wave his hand dramatically and smile so bigly.

Then one day he just stopped calling. I tried asking him why he stopped calling, but he said, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ve been so busy.” After a week of Matt not calling, I still had faith that he would call.

After about a month of not hearing from Matt I started to face the reality that he didn’t like me anymore. My heart was crushed. Even though I had only spent about 3 weeks with this blue-eyed, brown-haired babe, I had felt like I had known him my whole life.

Quickly I started slipping into depression. I started dating lots of trashy guys as rebounds. My grades started dropping, and I only wanted to hang out at places where I knew I might run into Matt. I ran into him a lot, but we never spoke to each other. For 11 months I cried every single night and wouldn’t listen to anything but sad love songs. I really thought I would never get over him.

It’s been almost a year since Matt was interested in me, and my broken heart is just starting to heal. I’ve learned that you can’t live in the past, and that in most cases time is the only way to heal a broken heart. Some days were so hard, but it’s gotten easier and I’m over him now.

* Name has been changed

Last Modified Date: 3/28/2001