It all started in the beginning of 2005. It was nothing, it was meaningless. I even told him that. I told him not to go falling in love, I wasn't the girl for that. Where is hind sight when you need it? I actually was completely infatuated with someone else at the time and he was more of a distraction and ego boost than anything else. The thing was, there was something there, an odd chemistry that I had never had with anyone before. It was more than just sexual, because the hooking up part wasn't even that great. It was awkward and it seemed that was the only time we had zero chemistry. Still, every time we were outside of the "awkward zone", there was something there. From the very first time we hung out, we were drawn to each other. People would comment that no matter where we were or what was going on, the two of us would always be off to the side caught up in our own conversation. I would consciously try to not let it happen, but a couple beers later, it would come to my attention that I was off to the side lost in a conversation with him. I never really seemed to mind, I loved our conversations. I would get asked often if we were dating and the answer was always a definite no. That was always followed by the person telling me how strong the chemistry was between him and I. I heard that word a lot during that time. While I agreed to a certain point, he just wasn't the one for me.
Skip forward a few months to April 1st. The day that everything got flipped upside down and any logical sense that I had picked up in my 28 years, went right out the fucking window. I still can't tell you what happened that night that made everything different, but now that I think about it, it might be possible that I'm stuck in a cruel and unusual April fools joke that just has yet to end. I almost remember it like a movie and not like something that happened in my life. He had a party that night, everyone else had left and I was leaving his house, walking to my car to go see the other guy who I had just gotten a half hearted invitation from. I could tell he didn't want me to leave, but he wasn't the important one, at least not for another 10 minutes or so. Marker set, cue music, and I'm half way down his driveway when I just suddenly stop and think, what am I doing? This is where I want to be. I turn around walk back into his house and open the bedroom door. He's midway through taking his pants off, and I can tell by the look on his face, that while caught off guard undressing, he's glad I came back. I am too. We get into bed and he says, "I really wanted to cuddle with you, but was just too embarrassed to say it". Fade to black.
I wish I could say the next four years continued with the same cuddly bliss, but I can't. It couldn't be farther from the truth. You would think that by my age I would have been in love before, I thought I had, but it had never even come close to this. We spent countless hours talking, we knew each others life stories inside and out, we knew every dream, every fear and whatever comes in between. I had never been so honest and open with someone in my entire life. He was my best friend, my safe haven and pretty much my favorite person in the entire world. I will never be able to put into words, what he meant to me then and still does now. Then one day, without any warning, he was my worst enemy. It didn't happen overnight, it was a slow and painful progression. It took us years to perfect. A constant mishandling of situations. He didn't feel the same for me as I did for him. I couldn't walk away, I wouldn't give up. He couldn't either, he didn't have the guts. He would hurt me, so naturally I would have to try and do the same to him. The more betrayed I felt, the more I tried to make him feel the same. We went from being each others biggest support, to each others wrecking crew. We couldn't tear each other down fast enough. It got so ugly. The person I had opened myself to completely, was proceeding to tear my heart right out of my chest, taking along with it, my mind.
I was destroyed. Whoever I was before this, I can't even remember. It doesn't matter anyway, that person is long gone. I felt like a faceless, nameless mass of a being, minus the being. It was like I had resorted back to the caveman days of single thought processes, eat, work, sleep and constantly acting on impulse. I had no control of my actions. I knew it was crazy, I knew it was bad and I knew that the consequences would be horrible. The hurt and the anger conquered all. It's hard to explain exactly how I felt. I wouldn't want to do the things I did, but I couldn't stop myself. I definitely knew this was NOT the way to win back his affections, but I would get this feeling in my chest, what I imagine a panic attack would feel like. It was an overwhelming anxiety and the only thing that made it better was to follow through on that impulsive thought. They were acts of desperation, anything, anything to make that horrible feeling go away. I officially conceded that I had lost my mind. I decided that mental health was overrated anyway and continued on my path, knuckles scraping the concrete as I went.
Slowly but surely, I started walking upright, but I was still no one. I had lost everything about me. I had to learn to be a whole new person. I had to find a name, I had to find a face to go with that name, I had to learn to control my urges, I had to regain control of my thoughts. I wanted to look in the mirror and not see blank, lifeless eyes staring back at me. I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover. How can you? It's like you have a glass figurine and you keep it high on a shelf so nothing can ever happen to it. One day a person comes along and wants to see your glass figurine, you trust them, so you take your figurine down off the shelf and put it in their hands. In a heartbeat, they are careless with it and it smashes all over the floor. You pick up all the pieces you can find and try your best to put it back together, but it will never be the same. You will always see the cracks where you attempted to glue it, the chips from missing pieces and every time you look at that figurine, you will think of the person who broke it. All you can do is put it up on a higher shelf and vow to never let anyone see it again.
Six years later, I'm still not complete. I'm still angry, I'm still hurt and I still have a load of back breaking resentment. Resentment towards him for not doing the things I wanted him to and resentment for him doing all the things I wish he hadn't. If I could let go of the resentment, I think the anger and the hurt would follow, but it feels like it's embedded into me and I have no clue how to get rid of it. It climbs in bed with me at night and wakes me in the morning. I think the thing that hurts more than anything and I have the most resentment, is for the lack of remorse. I've never felt any remorse from him, never heard the words "I'm sorry". It's possible he's not sorry, but there is not even admittance of guilt. I know the role I played in all this and all the crazy things I've done. Some I am very sorry for, others, not so much, but I will admit to what I did. This lack of remorse is the reality of how little I mattered to him. It settled in and charred whatever had been left over. Not only was I nameless and faceless to myself, I was nameless and faceless to him too.
To this moment, not one day has gone by that I have not thought of him. I want to look at him and feel nothing. I want to stop mourning the loss of someone I used to know. I want to not miss him. He tries to make it sound so easy, just move on, just let it go. Dang, why didn't I think of that in the first place! That makes me even more resentful. They say there is a thin line between love and hate and I walk that line like a 21 year old college kid at 2 am. One day I want nothing more than to see him succeed and be the support I had been in the beginning. Then he opens his mouth and my tongue suddenly becomes a sledge hammer that wants to knock him down by any means possible. I used to think him and I were better than this, but anger is a tricky thing and consumes anything in it's way. I don't want to, but I find myself still trying to find his figurine and smash it to pieces, make him feel the way I felt when mine was destroyed. He stoops low, I stoop lower, but always to no avail. I've come to realize that I'm never going to find his figurine, he doesn't have one. I think he used to have one, a long time ago and someone broke it, but instead of putting it back together, he just swept it up and threw it away.
Skip forward a few months to April 1st. The day that everything got flipped upside down and any logical sense that I had picked up in my 28 years, went right out the fucking window. I still can't tell you what happened that night that made everything different, but now that I think about it, it might be possible that I'm stuck in a cruel and unusual April fools joke that just has yet to end. I almost remember it like a movie and not like something that happened in my life. He had a party that night, everyone else had left and I was leaving his house, walking to my car to go see the other guy who I had just gotten a half hearted invitation from. I could tell he didn't want me to leave, but he wasn't the important one, at least not for another 10 minutes or so. Marker set, cue music, and I'm half way down his driveway when I just suddenly stop and think, what am I doing? This is where I want to be. I turn around walk back into his house and open the bedroom door. He's midway through taking his pants off, and I can tell by the look on his face, that while caught off guard undressing, he's glad I came back. I am too. We get into bed and he says, "I really wanted to cuddle with you, but was just too embarrassed to say it". Fade to black.
I wish I could say the next four years continued with the same cuddly bliss, but I can't. It couldn't be farther from the truth. You would think that by my age I would have been in love before, I thought I had, but it had never even come close to this. We spent countless hours talking, we knew each others life stories inside and out, we knew every dream, every fear and whatever comes in between. I had never been so honest and open with someone in my entire life. He was my best friend, my safe haven and pretty much my favorite person in the entire world. I will never be able to put into words, what he meant to me then and still does now. Then one day, without any warning, he was my worst enemy. It didn't happen overnight, it was a slow and painful progression. It took us years to perfect. A constant mishandling of situations. He didn't feel the same for me as I did for him. I couldn't walk away, I wouldn't give up. He couldn't either, he didn't have the guts. He would hurt me, so naturally I would have to try and do the same to him. The more betrayed I felt, the more I tried to make him feel the same. We went from being each others biggest support, to each others wrecking crew. We couldn't tear each other down fast enough. It got so ugly. The person I had opened myself to completely, was proceeding to tear my heart right out of my chest, taking along with it, my mind.
I was destroyed. Whoever I was before this, I can't even remember. It doesn't matter anyway, that person is long gone. I felt like a faceless, nameless mass of a being, minus the being. It was like I had resorted back to the caveman days of single thought processes, eat, work, sleep and constantly acting on impulse. I had no control of my actions. I knew it was crazy, I knew it was bad and I knew that the consequences would be horrible. The hurt and the anger conquered all. It's hard to explain exactly how I felt. I wouldn't want to do the things I did, but I couldn't stop myself. I definitely knew this was NOT the way to win back his affections, but I would get this feeling in my chest, what I imagine a panic attack would feel like. It was an overwhelming anxiety and the only thing that made it better was to follow through on that impulsive thought. They were acts of desperation, anything, anything to make that horrible feeling go away. I officially conceded that I had lost my mind. I decided that mental health was overrated anyway and continued on my path, knuckles scraping the concrete as I went.
Slowly but surely, I started walking upright, but I was still no one. I had lost everything about me. I had to learn to be a whole new person. I had to find a name, I had to find a face to go with that name, I had to learn to control my urges, I had to regain control of my thoughts. I wanted to look in the mirror and not see blank, lifeless eyes staring back at me. I'm not sure I'll ever fully recover. How can you? It's like you have a glass figurine and you keep it high on a shelf so nothing can ever happen to it. One day a person comes along and wants to see your glass figurine, you trust them, so you take your figurine down off the shelf and put it in their hands. In a heartbeat, they are careless with it and it smashes all over the floor. You pick up all the pieces you can find and try your best to put it back together, but it will never be the same. You will always see the cracks where you attempted to glue it, the chips from missing pieces and every time you look at that figurine, you will think of the person who broke it. All you can do is put it up on a higher shelf and vow to never let anyone see it again.
Six years later, I'm still not complete. I'm still angry, I'm still hurt and I still have a load of back breaking resentment. Resentment towards him for not doing the things I wanted him to and resentment for him doing all the things I wish he hadn't. If I could let go of the resentment, I think the anger and the hurt would follow, but it feels like it's embedded into me and I have no clue how to get rid of it. It climbs in bed with me at night and wakes me in the morning. I think the thing that hurts more than anything and I have the most resentment, is for the lack of remorse. I've never felt any remorse from him, never heard the words "I'm sorry". It's possible he's not sorry, but there is not even admittance of guilt. I know the role I played in all this and all the crazy things I've done. Some I am very sorry for, others, not so much, but I will admit to what I did. This lack of remorse is the reality of how little I mattered to him. It settled in and charred whatever had been left over. Not only was I nameless and faceless to myself, I was nameless and faceless to him too.
To this moment, not one day has gone by that I have not thought of him. I want to look at him and feel nothing. I want to stop mourning the loss of someone I used to know. I want to not miss him. He tries to make it sound so easy, just move on, just let it go. Dang, why didn't I think of that in the first place! That makes me even more resentful. They say there is a thin line between love and hate and I walk that line like a 21 year old college kid at 2 am. One day I want nothing more than to see him succeed and be the support I had been in the beginning. Then he opens his mouth and my tongue suddenly becomes a sledge hammer that wants to knock him down by any means possible. I used to think him and I were better than this, but anger is a tricky thing and consumes anything in it's way. I don't want to, but I find myself still trying to find his figurine and smash it to pieces, make him feel the way I felt when mine was destroyed. He stoops low, I stoop lower, but always to no avail. I've come to realize that I'm never going to find his figurine, he doesn't have one. I think he used to have one, a long time ago and someone broke it, but instead of putting it back together, he just swept it up and threw it away.
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