"I'm Home, But I'm Losing You"

The day after I got home, I called Karen. She asked me about our trip. I asked her about camp. Then, somehow us being together and married forever came up - as those things often due in five month old relationships - and she was silent.

"Do you not want that anymore?" I asked.
"I don't know Cory. I'm at camp," she began, "and I'm realizing there
are so many people out there. Plus, I'll be away at school at Grand Valley..."
"Do you not love me anymore?" I asked, like a character on "One Life To Live".
"I still love you, but I don't know..."

I cried. And I cried. And cried. I shut my door and let go. I tricked myself into thinking I was crazy enough to commit suicide (knowing at the back of my mind I was not). I wiped my eyes, left my room, told my Mom I needed to go the bank, and drove off.

There is something comfortable about crying in your car. It's the one place I have always felt completely alone. I have had some major epiphanies in my car. I have sung my heart out. I have uncontrollably wept, and had bursts of joy. It was just me, my Cadillac Sedan DeVille, and my CD player. As I drove around, I told myself that good could come out of this. Look what Phil Elverum did, he made the "greatest album of all-time", about his break up and being alone. (SEE: THE GLOW PT. 2) I thought maybe I could create the greatest album ever with my pain, or at least something to win Karen back.

For two days I sat in my room and just recorded music. I had nothing to do. No work to go to (Our trip ended early, so I still had requested days off), and no one to see.

The day Karen came home for her evening off, I made sure the album was done. I made a cover in photoshop. On the way over to her house I felt more nervous than I had for our first date. In my mind, this could have been it. The last time we hugged. The last kiss. The last time I saw her.

In her kitchen, with her parents standing there, it was uncomfortable. She kept looking at me with a huge grin, acting as if nothing had happen. I stayed stone faced. I had prepared what I needed to say, and do. Her parents left for thursday evening church, and we were alone.

"I need to go to CVS, do you want to come?" She asked.
"Well, of course. I want to see you. I didn't drive over here for nothing. I made you a CD"
"Yeah? A Mix?"
"No, I wrote 5 songs in the past two days. I want you to listen to them."

On the way to CVS, we listened:

"I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I could knock you off your feet/
I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I could take your breath away/
I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish I could make everyone disappear, in front of your eyes..."

We didn't look at each other. It was dead silent, other than the electronic beats, and my thin little voice, singing words I believed could change everything. I could make her forget about other people. I could make her care about me as much as I did her.

We went into CVS. We held hands. We talked about our future.

"If I could change world, you know I'd try/ If I could change your heart, you know I'd try/ If words could do anything, I talk forever. If I could make you cry, you know I'd try."

We held hands on the way back, and just listened to the CD. It was only 12 minutes long, and the perfect length for a trip to CVS and back.

When we were back inside her Kitchen, we both let it all spill out.

NOTE: Our conversation did not obviously sound like this, but that was almost 4 years ago:

"I love you. I don't want to break up... Why did you lose confidence in us?" I asked.
"I don't know, Cory. I just feel like there are all these people. Why are you so sure you want to be with me?"
"I just am. I know." I told her.
"How can you be so confident."
"I just am."

Okay, so I was totally lying. I'm an 18 year old kid. I only pretended like I knew everything. I knew nothing. It was my first relationship. I knew I cared about Karen. I told her I loved her, but did I really think we were going to last forever? At that time, I had no clue, but I persisted.

"I can't see myself being with anyone else," I told her, "I really like you."
"Well, I don't know. I can be so sure."
"How about this," I suggested, "If you meet someone at school, and want to go out with them, you can."

Again, I was obviously lying, or just incredibly stupid. There was no way I would be okay with being cheated on. I pretended though. I was a pushover.

"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Well, there isn't anyone I want to see now."
"Okay, but when you do..."

Karen was my first girlfriend, and will be my last. She went away to school at Grand Valley State University. We did the long distance thing for a year. It worked out. She never met anyone she wanted to date on the side And then, the following hear I transfered to Grand Valley State University. We have been together four years, and are getting married this summer. We are happy, and I have written many other happy songs for her.

Thinking now about that moment, in her car, listening to me singing "What did I do?", and "I'm sorry", I sounded pretty pathetic. I didn't do anything wrong to make Karen unsure. I'm not sure if I believed I did, or if I was trying to guilt trip her? It's hard for me to get into that same mind-space as that angsty teenager I was at 18.

Steve, and Mikey, this is to give you hope...