Narrative Essay About The Tunnel Of Love

With Valentine’s Day quickly approaching, customers become surrounded by hearts, candies, and giant stuffed animals. I, the optimist that I am, view love as a necessity and believe it should be celebrated, but for crying out loud, it’s just too much. Perhaps I feel this way because I have never truly loved; I casually dated, but I never fully committed. I did, however, know people who decided to ride the Tunnel of Love and, as a result, developed heart-shaped tunnel-vision and it ended up affecting my life. My first two years of high school changed who I was as a person. By my Sophomore year, my happiness and mental well-being entered a rapid state of decline. This was all due to the fact that my Freshman year, I had a stalker named Bailey; he was tall, birdlike, and very, very creepy. I sat with my best friend, Rebecca, on her zebra-striped bed on several occasions and told her all of my woes with him, my

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just tired,” I lied poorly as my voice cracked. “Okay,” Emily replied concernedly. Katie frowned, disappointed at my parting, but I didn’t care.

I walked out the doors as my eyes misted; my first high school dance was not a happy experience. It was, however, an educational experience. I realized that I didn’t always come first. I realized that love can hurt, even if you aren’t in it. Finally, I realized that it was okay to free yourself of people if they consistently brought you pain, no matter the history.

On December 18th of 2015, I decided it was the right time to terminate my friendship with Rebecca; her relationship didn’t seem like it would end anytime soon, and even if it did, I knew there would be irreparable damages to our friendship and trust issues in our future. It proved itself as the healthiest decision I have made in my life. Eventually, I quit therapy. I found a support system as well as a passion for theatre, which helped me arrive at a better place and become the person I am