I'm afraid I've lost D for good. He lied to me so sweetly. First that he loved me so much and would never hurt me. That lie was discovered and is out. I've accepted it. That lie was silly in the first place, almost laughable. I should have never believed his perfectly phrased promises presented with just the right amounts of bashfulness and humility.
        Secondly, he said we were going to be friends. I was ready to go back to being our pre-teen romance selves. We almost did it. Still, I can tell that I pester him. I am the last person he would invite to any occasion. I once lit up his world, and now I am the bothersome stain on his favorite jeans that just doesn't seem to come off. I disgust myself, the pleading in my words and my glances that even I can sense disgusts me. Be my friend, speak to me, tell me anything, acknowledge me, hold me. He wants to help me, but only because he is obligated to do so. Not because he wants to. 
        How could I be so dumb to allow myself to be so immersed in a trivial teenage romance? I never thought I would be that girl. The average age for an American to lose his or her virginity is about sixteen. I used to think ew. I read a book in which a guy lost his virginity at age fifteen. Repulsive. Those girls on sixteen and pregnant? I was one step away from becoming one of them. Me, the grade skipper, with all my smarts and 2370 and 35. One time, D and I were walking in the hallway behind a pregnant sophomore at our school. He had us loiter a little so we wouldn't have to walk right behind her and so he wouldn't have to look at her. She was "disgusting, for keeping it at this age!" I almost burst into tears. He told me early on that if I got pregnant it would be totally up to me to keep the child or abort. What we were doing, his favorite act in the world, was pretty much the equivalent to that sophomore girl, who was probably just my age.
        I never want to judge anyone ever again. He's not who I thought he was, but then again I wasn't who he thought I was either. At least I have something that he doesn't. I have compassion. I love humanity, I truly do. I don't always love its actions or people even, but I try to see from everyone's point of view. I might hate what you do, but I love that you think differently from me. I want to learn and I want to see the world through other people's eyes. None of us think the same, and that is marvelous. I trust that while a given person may be misguided or ill, he means to do well. Our good intentions may be misplaced, but they are always good. I can and want to feel your pain.

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