Could I have been HIS National Anthem?

I remember he grabbed me by the hand and whisked me away onto the youth-stricken, bacteria ridden dance floor. There was too much in which he did not know and in which I was not willing to share at that point. In retrospect, I am not sure if my hesitance (and ultimate failure) to reveal my medical and intimacy fears made me a coward or someone worthy of intellectual praise in regards to my tender age. I wanted to tell him, tell him all of the things that made me who I was back then. I wanted to tell him why I was only in school every other week, and why I was shy in regards to him trying to touch me in the most respectable of places despite my past of being exposed in nearly every way to various doctors of sorts . Yet, his immaturity was utterly apparent and there was no way for me to distinguish between high-school lust or genuine desire when it came to his bleak pursuit of me.

I could help him grow internally, I thought, or I could be the laughingstock of the school by next Tuesday. Already, I admit, I was doing all in which I could to help nourish my waning, delicate reputation. I was not even at the ripe age of sixteen and already was dealing with the fallout from keeping a medical condition on the down low. I would not deny of its existence to anyone who was lovely enough to ask me while making full-on eye contact, but I was also not fluttering around trying to gain awareness of it as I am these days. To fully comprehend my mindset at that point, it's necessary to grasp the fact that I was an adolescent emerging into young adulthood. I was unaware of my identity, and of the power in which my mere voice held even though it was trapped in the midst of my 115 pound body. 

Now, nearly six years later, I remember why I pushed him away from me that night and fled into another room like the scared, naive little girl I was. His hand, when in mine, brought about a hybrid of feelings; utter anxiety could certainly account for the vast majority of them. I remember, but I do not necessarily agree, with my 16-year-old sentiments in regards to foregoing taking chances and taking the risk of young, immature love. I did not know all in which I was truly capable of back then, however, and so I limited myself.   

It was a mere matter of weeks before he was with another girl. To be quite honest, I do not blame him, for life is too short to be kept in captivity due to matters of the heart. At least, that is what I believe at this point in time. That girl, I recall, wore short skirts and had long blonde hair. She donned a sense of confidence unobtainable by me back then, and it sickened me inside to watch their love blossom mere feet from my locker.

I am still exploring internally and ultimately questioning if I am capable of achieving self-actualization within this remarkably short lifetime. However, I undeniably feel that analyzing past behaviors in regards to my medical condition is a sense in the right direction. - A