Jimmy: You don't believe in love?
Joe: Yeah. I believe in love. I believe in cancer.
Jimmy: What, they're both diseases?
Joe: Something like that.
- The Last Boy Scout

I met her late last year, around October, at the Pokemon League. Initially, she posed as a fourteen year old. She would late tell me that she was actually nineteen years old, but lied about her age to enter the League. After talking with her a bit, I must say that I was somewhat taken by her.

Since she lived in far away, it was very difficult for her to go to the Pokemon League. Thus, from November on, she didn't appear at the League again. I was dismayed, but continued on as normal, hoping that she would show up once again in the future.

I would be around the turn of the year (about February) before I would see her again at a card shop in another town. Needless to say, I was quite happy to see her again.

For a short while, she, another individual and I would meet at the shop and play Pokemon. And for some time, it was fun. She also began coming to the Pokemon League again, being given a ride from the same area by the other individual. We would also have "group-dinner" after the League.

I would learn a lot about her. We shared many things in common: we both like and played Pokemon (though she was far greater a player that I could ever hope to be), both liked and played Magic, playing various role- playing games on various video game machines, liked hot foods, the Japanese language, we were both the only children in our families, and we even were studying the same major (computer programming).

Unfortunately (depending on your outlook on the matter), I was beginning to fall in love with her. Not the type of infatuation that most people deal with, but a genuine affection for her.

And I also suspected that the other individual had as well.

Finally, I gathered up enough confidence to tell her how I felt about her.

Her answer was: "So does the 'other guy'".

And she quickly changed the subject.

That icy-coldness seemed oddly familiar to me (for a reason that you will soon read). I had been shot. And one of the few dreams that I ever truly had was crushed without so much as a second thought.

I pleaded with her to give me a chance, telling her everything. I begged.

All to no avail.

I think that's when my emotionally stability went downhill.

I sank into a depression. I spent my time laying in my bed. I didn't feel like talking. I didn't eat much. And I cried every night. Can you imagine that? A twenty-three year old weeping like a child? And for two weeks this continued.

Needless to say, my parents were concerned with the matter, my father in particular. I tried to explain that I need to deal with my problems in my own way. He could see that I was depressed. His concerns for my well-being were well-founded: there had been a few suicides in the base where I currently live, two of which in the area where my father worked. However, he could not see that I wasn't stupid enough to do something that drastic.

Then he blew up. Twice. Screaming and yelling that I was doing nothing but laying in my bed.

It didn't help my situation. I have always had a close relationship with my father. But I can tell you this: we were a hair's width away from a large barrier going up between us. And that was less than fun.

We didn't talk for some time, and it was time to tell both of my parents exactly what is going on so they could both understand. And that they had to let me deal with my problems in my own way.

That is what happened up until now.

I came to realize something: It's stupid to have dreams.

I thought I had a lot of dreams; most of those were simply hopes. My one true dream was to fall in love with someone . . . and that person to love me as well.

Rejection wasn't that part that hurt the most; rejection, in any form, hurts.

The part that hurt most was not being given a second thought; not even a basic consideration.

I don't know how many people say to themselves, "I'm in love with this person". Is it love? I really don't know anymore. Perhaps there's nothing different between loving someone and caring for them very deeply. If they are the same thing, then I loved her very much.

Whether it was talking with her on the phone those few times, or giving her some cards for the games that she needed, or paying for her dinner, or just asking about how she was doing and her life . . . it was that warm smile, that "thank you", and that laugh that made me realize that I wanted to be the one to try and make her happy. Whatever she truly wanted it, I wanted to try and give it to her.

When she needed help, I wanted to be the one to help her. When she would cry, I wanted to be the one to hold her. When she needed a hug, I wanted to give her one. When she needed to talk to someone, I wanted to be that person. I wanted to share her in her hopes and dreams, and help her reach them.

My self-worth is based upon making another person happy. If I can't make another person happy, then I am worthless.

Can you imagine that? Someone telling you the equivalent of "No, I don't want you to try. No one like you could make me happy. Forget me."

Add this to the fact that my best friend left the Hawai'i at approximately the same time that she rejected me. I needed someone to help me through that, by helping them. But . . . but . . .

I was alone once again.

I felt abandoned, and betrayed. I don't know why, but I did.

I think about that when I did things for her, I could forget my own worries. I worried a lot from high school until now. When my classmates were thinking about what they were going to do after school, or how intoxicated that they were going to get on the weekend (that time, I was in Spain, where the legal drinking age is sixteen), or even their next sexual conquest, I was trying to think about my own future. Would I be able to get through college? Where am I going to be next? Will I ever find anyone? What if I get married? Will I be able to support her? Will I be a good husband? What if I have children? Will I be a good father? Will I be able to put food in their mouths? What about my job? Will it be secure?

It's unhealthy for a fifteen year old high school student to have so many worries.

This . . . this opened up old scars for me. Six years ago, I was rejected in much the same way. That same pain, and that same heartache.

And that fact is further compounded every Wednesday evening at the Pokemon League, when I see them together. My instincts tell me to not go to the League -- it's a terrible heartache to me, and on those evenings, I cry even more than usual. But the organizers of the Pokemon League depend on me; I know more about rulings than many of the others at the League. So I continue to go, despite what I feel.

I can't look at her in the face during those days -- I know that I would lose control and burst into tears.

You know, for so very long, I prayed. I hoped and I prayed for someone special. Someone that I could share my time and my heart with. For a long time I prayed.

I thought . . . I thought that this was the person. Finally, I would be able to care for someone. Even if it would be only for a short time . . . To finally find a person who shared so many of the same things that I did, I truly thought that I had found that special someone.

I thought that I wouldn't have to eat alone anymore. I wouldn't have to go to the movie alone anymore. I wouldn't have to walk alone anymore. I wouldn't have to spend time alone anymore.

For once, I wanted to be given a chance for love.

I was so very wrong.

I dyed my hair from brown to black. I couldn't stand to see myself in the mirror without beginning to go to pieces. But my mind wouldn't be fooled, since I've dyed my hair before. Then I cut my hair. It is to be some sort of "stop-gap" measure -- at least I could fool myself for a little while. I don't look at myself in the mirror much now -- because I'm afraid that I will go to pieces.

I barely did any of the work in my college classes. Fortunately, my teachers were understanding of my situation, and allowed me to pass, since they knew that I understood the material, but something was preventing me from doing the assignments.

And then at the end of June, something happened.

I lost my faith in myself, and my faith in God.

I had been a Christian, though not a perfect one, for twenty-three years. I never gave anyone any trouble, I went to and helped out with mass, said my prayers, and was the general good child. But I was abandoned. There is a Japanese comic called Video Girl Ai. In the Japanese version, the main character makes the comment at one point: "I feel like God threw me away." I never truly realized the enormity of that statement until now. And I can sympathize with it.

I . . . I still cry at nights, even though it happened in late April. Sometimes I will be driving home from work or night college classes when I will need to pull into a restaurant parking space and collect myself because it still hurts so much.

It's strange, isn't it? That a simple sentence can change another person so completely. Their outlook on life, their view of themself, their view of others, even their work habits. It's rather unfair.

The traditional reply from everyone is: "She's not right for you. You'll find the right person someday."

As of now, my future in that perspective looks very bleak. I'm getting old. How can I find the right person when I can't even find a person?

She will never read this, and she will never fully understand how much that I truly cared for her. She will never understand the utter adoration for her that I once held. I cared for her very much.

She'll never know that loneliness, how much she hurt me. She is an attractive, interesting, woman. People will always want to date her, and be with her.

Then you have people like me, who are the exact opposite. What kind of chance do people like me have with a person like that?

I only wanted to try and be the special person in her life that would attempt to make her happy. And she destroyed all of those feelings that I had for her with her own mouth.

I would be lying if I said that the Pokemon trading card game didn't hold some bitter memories for me right now. Perhaps that's why I haven't played since then, or go gone to the Pokegym much since then, or done much of anything, let alone Pokemon-related things.

There is a "Magic: The Gathering" card called Apocalypse. The flavor text on that card says:

I'm so tired. So very tired . . .

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