Life

It's over. It's finally over. My novel, my love-- over.
John will never love me. I knew that it would have to find a resolve... I just never thought it would come to this! Why this resolve?
I'll just post the chapter, I think... The very last chapter...The telephone rang, interrupting my homework. I picked up quickly. It was Sarah. She wanted to know Ben's phone number; she had let him see her Learner's Permit, and never gotten it back. Sarah can be so irresponsible. We looked him up in the phonebook, not knowing his parents' name. One was marked simply "S Gavins" and gave the zip code. I knew the part of town he lived at, and the zip code corresponded. Sarah made me stay on the line as she called, citing the "awkwardness." I relented, and as luck would have it, we called the right number the very first time. He had the Permit, and every intention to return it to her promptly. Somehow we ended up having a conversation. At a slow part, Sarah asked how my day was. I told them about reciting poetry for sixth-graders, and their reaction when I read poetry about the guy I had a crush on.
"Who do you have a crush on?" Ben asked.
"You know." I said, realizing that contempt registered in my voice. How could I be so mean to him without even trying?
Sarah sighed, "Get over it. What's it been, like three years?"
"Mmm-hmm." I muttered. Just then, I got a call on the other line, "I'll be back."
When I answered the other line, it was Sunny's friend Julia. It only took a moment to tell her I was using the phone, and I switched back over. I was about to announce my presence, when I realized of what they spoke.
"I feel so sorry for her, I know he doesn't like her," Sarah said.
Tell her she's wrong, Ben. I thought, please tell her she's wrong.
"He's told me that so many times." he responded, somber.
I wished that I had stayed on the line with Julia but just a bit longer, but I had already heard it-- every word. John would never love me. Not after changing everything about myself since sixth grade. Not after every inner battle I had fought. Not after every token of my love. He had thrown me again, and this time I wouldn't pick myself up and challenge him for more hurt. I was finished.
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I had written a novel based on what I wanted, and with it, somehow convinced myself that it was true. I pretended that he cared so long, that I had actually believed it. At a certain point I was soaring, and it took what was spoken behind my back to shoot me out of the sky. I was resolved in never having what I wanted; I just dreaded the moment when I would finally land.
At that moment, I had lost— I was lost. He left me with nothing but memories, and my dignity only barely intact. I was left with Matt, and Erik, and bittersweet recollections. As I sat there, broken and alone I thought about a poem I recited a thousand times that day.

"If you can take one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch and toss
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
But never breathe a word about your loss..."

I had, indeed. I had a thousand times before. The only difference was that I finally admitted to my failure. That was it; I had failed, but I had not failed anybody else. No, the truth was somewhat crueler— I had failed myself.