i was only 15 when i met you but
i was armed with a heart full of optimism,
and a mind craving a future of adventure.  
i saw the good in everyone i met,
including you.

i still remember spending lunch break in the
music room playing piano as you sat on the
bench next to me and watched my
fingers glide over the keys.

or how we sat next to each other in history
class and our teacher had to separate us  
because we couldn’t stop giggling over the
stupidest ****, day after day.

or how late one night we snuck into the garage
where all the golf carts were stored at this really
fancy country club and we just sat in one and talked.
one minute i was laughing and the next you were
kissing me and i remember thinking how right
everything felt in that moment.

i still don’t understand how the same person i
shared so many laughs with could be the same
person that grew so angry after i pushed her off of me.

who disregarded my pleas for her to stop.

“you don’t have to do this.”
“i am so sorry, i didn’t mean to make you angry”.

i am sorry,
i am sorry,
i am so so

s o r r y.

you didn’t stop
and i was forever changed.

after that night, i kept finding myself spending lunch
break hiding behind the couch in my empty math
classroom so i didn’t have to muster up the energy to
fake a smile and make small talk with anyone anymore.

i kept catching my heart sink in the middle
of laughing with my friends, none of it felt
real anymore and i felt so alone no matter
how many people i was surrounded with.

everyone was starting to notice and i
found myself answering the same
dreadful question day after day.

“are you okay?” they would ask.
“i’m just tired” was the standard reply.

i was growing increasingly angry as the
question kept coming and my answers
were becoming more sarcastic by the day.

every time i heard those words “are you okay”
i felt like i was being punched right in the gut,
of course i wasn’t okay, but i didn’t know why.
so one day i just stopped answering.
everyone that asked was met with silence.

i didn’t understand why i had grown so cold and tired
because you conditioned me into thinking that what
you did wasn’t bad and that i was over reacting.
soon i started questioning if i even remembered
that night right.

i didn’t understand why i was missing class after
class because i was too busy having panic attacks.

or why i couldn’t make eye contact
with you in the hallways anymore.

or why i prayed night after night to a higher power that
i doubted even existed because every morning i still
woke up when i prayed so hard that i would not.

i didn’t know why my heart was hurting but it was,
and there were no words, no matter how i phrased them,
that were able to convey the pain that i felt in my chest.

i eventually stopped trying to piece the right words together
because no matter how they came out, i couldn’t
quite capture the hopelessness or the emptiness,
or the desperation of needing someone to hug
me and tell me over and over how
this was not my fault no matter
how much i believed it was.

i thought maybe if i took the blade to my skin then
someone would recognize how bad i had been hurt.
but no one really seemed to think there was a problem.

but i was still sad,
so i figured that maybe the problem was me.

i became addicted to punishing myself for what you did.
blaming myself for not having seen this coming and  
for not having fought against you little harder that night
despite the paralyzing fear i felt.

the whole time i thought that
maybe if i understood why my heart was
hurting so much that i could find a way to fix it
and things would be a little easier.

flash forward to now,
i understand the reason behind the pain and
though i am no longer hurting myself to express it,
it’s hard to see my scars fading when the pain is not.

the paralyzing fear from that night
has followed me everywhere since
and it will follow me everywhere i go.