imagine this.
you experience something
with another person
that typically involves
a great deal of
love and commitment.
but, you didnt want to.
this person didn't love you
nor were they commited to you.
this moment
is usually special
and meaningful.
but, you can't even tell me
if it was because
you dont know.
you dont remember.
welcome to my life.
i was the mere age
of fifteen.
i thought i loved him.
afterwords,
i didn't tell anybody.
instead,
i made excuses.
“i remember.”
“i wasn't drunk.”
“i wanted to.”
i spent six long months
suffering,
burying everything,
before i finally decided
it was time to tell my mom.
last month
my mom told me
i had a doctors appointment.
you see,
i have been consistently
losing weight and
i hadn't been sleeping at night.
when my doctor asked if
my mom could come in too,
i instantly knew something was wrong.
my mom looked into my eyes
and told me i needed to be honest.
i had no idea
what she was talking about.
“she was *****,”
my mom blurted.
you see,
after spending
six. *******. months.
alone,
burying everything
that i didn't want to think about,
just to have all that hard work
ripped apart
was heartbreaking.
no,
having someone i
loved and trusted
do something so awful,
so wrong,
that was heartbreaking.
but digging it all back up?
that was torture.