THE FIRST CUT IS THE DEEPEST...AND IS USUALLY NEVER THE LAST

Can you remember the first boy or girl who ever made you feel all weird inside? That (heaven forbid we should call it this) "puppy love" feeling that often sets the tone for later defeats and/or conquests? It's funny, and kind of amusing, to look back at those moments NOW and laugh at our naivete, our lack of experience, our completely senseless (and often cheesy) acts of infatuation.

The list of oh-man-I-wish-I-hadn't-done-that incidents is endless: bringing roses to a girl after school on Valentine's Day and then seeing her get into a car with another boy (dammit that girl still owes my friend $47.50 for that bouquet!), carving out "Max loves me" on a tree trunk at school, punching your fist through a school window out of unnecessary jealousy, spending a weekend trying to memorize a song you know your crush likes and then discovering Monday morning that he's sick of hearing it, sneaking around behind your parents' backs to meet with someone at the mall, coaxing a classmate to accompany you to your dreamgirl's class if only to hand her your innocent token of love - a candybar, ASKING a girl you're at the movies with if you can hold her hand and then having her respond, "maybe a little later," searching every darn music store (during the pre-download days) for the song you and your crush slow danced to at a party, taking your friends to visit your girlfriend at school and then watching her get into a cab with someone else, letting a girl wear your $500 class ring for a week...just because, snatching the paper flower made out of napkin that your prom date/crush made at Denny's and then, while his back is turned, stick it in your purse, risking life and limb to kick it at your girl's house while she thinks her parents aren't home and then getting chased out by her dad, dedicating a song to someone on KOST or letting a song on your pager voicemail underhandedly tell someone how you feel.

All this for what? To gain the attention, and then hopefully affection of another who would later make you cry anyway? The ones who trapped us in our rooms, listening to a heavy rotation of what Bev and Melissa fondly call "slit my wrist" songs. You know what songs I'm talking about. The ones you listen to when, despite already feeling trapped in the emotional quagmire that is heartache, seek a more sadistic form of self-deprecation. LET THE PAIN REMAIN! Hahaha!

In our youth (oh man I can't even say that without welling up), early cases of heartbreak may have served as devastating trailers to the cruelty and unfairness of life's later features. We hadn't quite formed effective ways of dealing with it all at the tender ages of 10,13 or even 17 years old. Encouraging mantras such as "this too shall pass" and "good things come to those who wait patiently" mattered not to the adolescent psyche. We just wanted to cry and talk sh*t to our friends, wrote God-awful poetry or songs, and listened to our music; good ol' it-hurts-so-much-I-wanna-die sounds...

Good times...

So now the question remains "what's YOUR slit-my-wrist song?"