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.