(Source: Pexels.com)

(Source: Pexels.com)

There’s this boy, you see …

Isn’t that the way all tragic stories start, the way all hearts get broken?

There’s this boy, and even though I love him he loves someone else. And even though I would give anything to be the one he chose, I’m not. And even though I prayed so much that God would let it work out this time, just this one time, please, God, can you act like you care about me … it didn’t work.

There’s this boy, and I think he’s beautiful and our personalities just mesh and I want to be his best friend for life. But he loves someone else.

And the hardest part of this isn’t that a boy loves another girl more than me.

The hardest part is that I’ve had this odd thought: God, I guess, must love this other girl more than me.


The hardest part is that I’ve had this odd thought: God, I guess, must love this other girl more than me.


For a long time that’s the only explanation I had, the only reason I came up with for why she got the boy and I didn’t. God shone his light on her life and not mine, he decided to favor her and not me, that she’s blessed and I’m not.

Unlike her, I’m a little overweight, I struggle with depression, I’m not confident, my face lacks beauty, I’m a few sizes too big, and my mind is broken in ways unimaginable.

I’ve been told that if I work out and eat well I’ll be happier and I’ll be prettier and someone will finally be able to love me.

In my darkest moments, those are the thoughts that accost me.

But I don’t think they’re actually right. There’s this part of me that rebels against all those voices – others’ voices saying I need to change, and my own voice saying God loves me less.

That’s the part of me that still believes, that still raises my hands in joyful worship and gets “He is here” tattooed on my forearm to remind me that I am never alone.

I’ve been so lonely lately. I’ve taken to wandering through Manhattan after work at midnight, crying and letting loneliness wash over me. Any time I’m not with people, I am crushed by the awareness of my solitude.

But I’m not. Alone, that is. That’s the whole point of my tattoo, is that I’m never alone. That God is with me.

And maybe the boy didn’t choose someone else because God loves me less. Maybe it’s just that God wants me to focus on Him right now.

Maybe this is a season for me to realize the overwhelming and constant presence of God in my life and bask in that.

I want someone to love me. I want to stop being depressed, stop feeling like I’m in a box that only death will release me from. I’ve been struggling with suicidal thoughts again lately, because I’m lonely and overcome.

And something stops me every time. A friend, or overwhelming weariness, or the simple fact that I want to live, dammit.

I want to live.

I want to love.

I think that’s what I’m supposed to focus on right now. Not a boy. Not his girl. Not my lack of being her. I need to focus on living for something greater and loving someone greater.


I need to focus on living for something greater and loving someone greater.


That’s not me trying to oversimplify it or saying it’s gonna be easy, or that I’m gonna be happy from here on out. I’ll probably still call my friends crying at 1 am (shoutout to Chi) or have the urge to hurt myself or wonder if God really loves me. But despite all that, I am still gonna try.

Because I want to live. I want to love. And I’m refusing to be just another tragic heartbreak story. I’m not just another broken girl. I feel like my mind is beaten and battered and bent but that’s not the end of me. I’m lonely and sad and unrequited love sucks, it really sucks, but it’s not the end of me. It can’t be.

Karis is a grad student at NYU in New York City. Her writing has appeared online with Seventeen as well as Good Housekeeping. She blogs at karisrogerson.com. To stay informed about all her writing, sign up here.