It rained last night.

A flood inside me carried away four years’ worth of memories that had driven me to the point of insanity. The irony of it all? While it rained, I was talking to the source of those memories about the power of storms.

“Storms,” he said, “are impressive because they show how little you are…”

“...And how little control you actually have over so many things,” I added on.

But there was something more I wanted to say to him.

Loving someone is like having a hurricane inside you: blowing away any care you have for yourself, toppling over any common sense you thought you had, breaking your heart, landing strongest when you least expect it to, and making you lose control when it is most dangerous. At least, that’s how I experienced love.

· · ·

There wasn’t much to love about him when we first met. God, I’m just realizing now how stupid this might all sound – we were just 11 when I started to like him. But, I’d be lying if I said this boy didn’t change how I view the world.

He was the opposite of everything I thought I’d like about a boy. Rude, arrogant, insensitive…but I still clung on to the idea that he might be my prince charming in disguise. Why? Because he was nice to me for the three months that we were actually friends in middle school. Romance at its finest, I know. Even after he started to ignore me because people had found out about my crush on him, I foolishly believed that someday, he would like me back.

I thought about him too much for two years. Wrote notes to him. Spent hours replaying memories of our short-lived friendship. Told myself not to think about him, but always failed. Treasured any acknowledgement from him, even if his words tore away at my self esteem - getting called ugly and dumb does sting. We only traded words to hurt each other. Neither of us were at our best.

My entire existence for those two years revolved around getting his approval, winning his games – and since I never won, I started to feel worthless. Not once did I stop to ask myself, “Stella, why are you letting this boy who evidently does not care about you take over your mind?” But I was in love.

Time paralyzed me, trapping me in a hopeless dream. Then ninth grade came along. I’d spent the entire summer in fear of seeing him again. I wondered, could we finally become friends once more? At first, it seemed impossible. Discomfort emanated off both of us when we were together. Finally, a sliver of hope appeared. I started to fall for someone else. For days at a time, I stopped thinking about the boy from middle school – but he was still that boy who broke my heart. Yet somehow we started to talk to each other like civilized people. I was amazed that there had been no awkward “Do you remember” or “I’m sorry” as a precursor. I told myself I was over him, but looking back, I know I wasn’t.

Some things had changed, however. I knew there would be no fairytale ending with my new crush, so I braced myself for the end. In December, when I found out he in fact did not like me back, I forced myself to let go. All this common sense stemmed from a fear of repeating middle school. It helped that this new boy was a kind, wonderful friend, but the greatest part of that experience was the confidence I gained, and how I learned to love myself again, thanks to him. If loving that boy was a hurricane, my feelings for this boy were the eye of that storm.

January, 2015. I found myself falling in love with that boy once more. And that love came back with a vengeance. My common sense disappeared. I had let go of the memories, but the feelings remained. They morphed into something horrendous – storm clouds that were always waiting to darken any brightness and cloud my thoughts with hatred and confusion. I couldn’t control them, no matter how hard I tried. Looking at it now, I know my actions were unhealthy. Hell, I knew back then that I was drowning. But that was me - impulsive, illogical.

I wish I could say that I got over him all on my own. But my recovery really started when he began dating my best friend. In fact, he had asked for my help in getting them together. At last, I could stop thinking about him, partly because I wanted them to be happy. I started to see myself as an individual person, instead of a shell doing everything in relation to what I wanted him to think of me. That was when I began to feel free.

It took a summer to discover who I am. My dreams and ambitions, which had just been shadows in my mind for years, finally became things that I was determined to chase after. I strengthened friendships, old and new. Belatedly, I started to be a responsible, sensible person. Boys left my mind for the summer. When he texted me in August, I did not react as I would have before. He was just another friend. I had let go of him.

The sky was finally clear.

· · ·

There are many things I can’t control - love among them. But what I can control, I realized, is who hurts me. I only had myself to blame for letting that boy become an obsession. But I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, except for shortening the four years it took to reach the end. That unrequited love lasted far too long. At least I learned from it and found myself.

· · ·

Love is like a hurricane. When the tumult ends, there’s always some damage left behind. You can either let that haunt the rest of your life, or you can pick up the pieces and begin again. It took a while, but I chose the latter. I’m glad I did.

· · ·

A bit later, the rain outside grew louder. He said he wanted to talk about love. I laughed a little, then carried on with the conversation and my life.