Untitled

I can’t let it go.

You.

You completely destroyed every ounce of trust that I ever had in love. Anything that I ever put into it, any hope that I had in spite of all the failure I’d seen around me? It was gone.

You broke up with me. You did. You left me. People do that. People leave. That’s fine. No relationship lasts forever.

Love doesn’t last forever.

Love never lasts forever.

Love is a temporary state. And I can enjoy it while it lasts because as soon as the going gets tough people leave. They do. And maybe that’s what’s better for them.

But I needed you. I needed you, and you had told me that you’d always be there, no matter what.

No matter what.

And when I needed you most. When I thought I was pregnant the first time, and we were supposed to be in love, where were  you? Gone. You wouldn’t answer my calls for a week. You wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t comfort me. I was just as scared as you were and I had just as much to lose and you left me alone.

And then I took you back, like an idiot, because you said you were sorry and that you regretted it. And that was my fault. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, what the fuck was I thinking?

I saw this ugly side of you. This asshole that I allegedly turned you into. That all the not eating and the anonymous sex and the drugs had twisted your brain into this anxiety-ridden thing that felt the need to treat me like some exotic animal. You spent half the time “protecting me from the world” and the rest of the time “protecting the world from me”. It wasn’t fair to me. I didn’t ask to be treated like I was your property.

I had the chance at love. I had it so many times, but you just couldn’t let it happen. You just had to keep me for yourself when I didn’t want it anymore.

I was tired of fighting but you made me think it would be worth it. And it wasn’t. You were leaving. You always planned on leaving.

You fucking coward. You selfish fucking coward. I can’t stand you. I can’t stand that I was ever in love with you.

And more than that I can’t stand that I still care about all of it when I have something so much better. Something worth being a better person for.

And I will. I will be a better person in spite of all of the bullshit that you put me through and I will give my love to someone who deserves it because I deserve to be happy now that I don’t have you dragging me down with your anxiety and you’re privilege and your lies.

He’s a million times the man that you ever were.

And yes, he is fucking better in the sack than you because he’s not terribly afraid of coming near me with his dick for fear of impregnating me, you stupid twat.

A friend asks me to go to a party with him. He’s a friend I’ve been hanging out with for a while now, and someone who’s been a casual friend for a number of years. He’s in a bit of a dark point, and I’m hoping to cheer him up by spending time with him.

We go to a party on the outskirts of town on a property that’s a few acres. It’s a house and a warehouse. The drive is full of cars. He parks on the gravel next to the warehouse and we go inside.

He encourages me to take a few shots, which isn’t weird. He’s legal and he knows that I like to party, so I do. There are girls there, and we start having drinks and dancing and having fun.

I’m nine shots deep when he tells me he has to get something out of his car and that I should come with him, because there are a bunch of guys there that are older than me and that I don’t know. He says he doesn’t want them to try anything. I’m sober enough to worry about it, and drunk enough that I don’t question being alone with him.

When we get outside he pulls me around to the other side of the car, to the brush in front of the gravel drive in the shadow of the warehouse. His car is a ways away from everyone else, and it’s cold outside so everyone is inside. Immediately I tell him no. He doesn’t seem perturbed. Instead he starts pulling at my clothes. I thrash around but even sober he’s stronger than me, and drunk there’s no chance at all. I kick at him and yell, so he grabs me by the hair and tosses me against the side of the warehouse, which is made of sheet metal. The impact and the noise of it send me to the ground, and he has his way with me. I’m too fuzzy to do anything.

When I come out of my trance, he’s gone, and I’m delirious. Something has kicked in. Something I haven’t felt before. I feel better than I have in a long time—light and loopy and fun.

I go back inside, torn between telling everyone what happened and feeling like that’s a part of my brain I shouldn’t touch because that part of me has been shut off. So I go back to the party. I have another drink. I don’t remember a lot. I remember Steven pointing me out to his friend. I remember him smiling. I remember him sober, with a cigarette in his hand and a leer on his face. I remember him nudging his friend towards me, and his friend pulling me out the door.

We’re on the trampoline outside that I saw in the distance when I came in. The house is a ways away. The light is too far for me to bother yelling. I’m getting tired, and everything stings. Pins and needles everywhere. And then there’s pain that’s real—it comes crashing down on me. I’m thrashing and whimpering because I can’t seem to make a noise and he’s swearing. There’s the jerky movement of him clamoring off and I sink into nothingness.

I’m being carried back inside the house by a guy when I come to. Some stranger. I’m freezing to the core and the pain hasn’t stopped. I’m handed off to Steven, who throws and arm over my shoulder. I can feel everything happening but I can’t see it. I hear him laugh. Smell the cigarette smoke close to me. Feel him move me towards the car.

He’s talking to me as I’m driving home. He’s telling me he did me a favor. He’s telling me no one is going to buy anything I say, so not to bother. When he opens the door from the driver’s side and undoes my seat belt I stumble out of the car and nearly faceplant on the pavement. He’s gone before I make it to the front door. I curl into a ball on the couch because I can’t bother with the stairs.

When I wake up fully clothed before the rest of family does, there are pills in my pocket that I won’t push back out of my life for nearly another year.

brittle-like-butterfly-bones.tumblr.com is now my active blog. To make things easier I just created a new account separate from my other. This will more or less just become a place for my mental ramblings. And online journal, as it were. I don’t know why I want to do this online. I guess it just feels better to think that someone out there might be able to one day read this and relate to it.

Maybe I’ll want advice. Maybe it’s because I know no one will comment on it and it’ll just reaffirm my tendencies to assume that no one cares. In which case I just have become a glutton for punishment.

It doesn’t really matter. It’s here regardless.

Talk to me if you so desire, on either blog.