I used to think that you were the one for me
Because you were the first.
The first to treat me how I wanted to be treated
And how I deserved to be treated.
You were the first I was with while I began to
Realize my worth.
I used to place so much value in Firsts.
I remember my first boyfriend,
My first kiss.
I thought because he was my first
We were meant to be.
I wasn’t really in love with him, though,
I was in love with the idea of the First.
Instead I was introduced to my first heartbreak.
My first betrayal.
After a long line of Firsts,
I ended up with you.
I was certain this was the be all and end all.
You were the first to treat me with that level of respect.
You were the first to truly listen and share my pain.
I clung onto you for so long because
I felt that you were my most important,
Significant First –
And for the first time, you didn’t want me back.
For the first time, I let you go.
The one for me
Is not a First in many ways,
But is a First where it matters most.
And in the end, maybe Firsts aren’t important after all.
Life isn’t that simple.
He is not my first kiss,
Nor my first love.
But I remember our firsts
As being sweeter than honey
And I remember feeling
Lighter than air
Happier than ever.
So goodbye to all my last Firsts.
A heartbeat that is an engineless, runaway train.
A brain severed from its cord.
A body in pieces.
There is someone shrieking over there,
In that corner where
Uncertainty and fear lies.
A dull pounding behind the eyes
Becomes a searing pain.
The world feels so dangerous nowadays.
A calming glow
A gentle warmth.
It heals and protects.
It soothes the burnt
And thaws the frozen.
Sweet as honey,
Refreshing as water.
A year ago today I began writing here.
I was about to embark on the biggest adventure of my life.
I was about to meet so many new people,
Have so many laughs and
Shed so many tears.
I was about to break my own heart
Say goodbye to someone who meant
So much to me
And then meet the love of my life.
What a wonderfully, terribly, awesome year.
Words cannot express the emotion,
So much can change in a year.
To the girl I ruthlessly harmed,
Both physically and mentally –
Please find it in your heart
To forgive me.
To the girl I told wasn’t good enough
Over and over,
Please find it in your heart
To let go of the pain.
I was hurting
So I hurt you,
Hoping for relief.
I should have been there for you.
I shouldn’t have let you go through it alone.
I am sorry.
A paper plane flying through a thunderstorm.
Each drop weighs ever heavy on the thin wings,
Curling, folding, disfiguring the once
Straight, strong edges.
Laying in a puddle of muddy water,
A crumpled shape is left.
When the sun returns, the airplane cannot be recovered –
It dries and hardens,
Never quite the same.
One, two, three, four,
Steady mind, steady fingers –
Breathe in, breathe out.
Nothing but here
The mind wanders,
But is pulled back in
Like yarn escaping a needle.
Bring the attention back.
I have nothing. I lie here empty and uncertain of why exactly I’m hurting. There’s an uneasiness that settles throughout the spaces that have been worn through my mind. It’s the kind of feeling of being trapped. Of falling and having no way back.
I am taking the memories that still overwhelm me and folding them, until they are small enough to pack away. I am acknowledging them. I am not banishing them from my mind, but putting them away in a closet in my mind so I can revisit them at a later time.
Or at least I try.
They seep through the doors and infiltrate my mind. They appear in the form of anxiety, fear, and feelings of being constantly unsafe. I try to gather them together, but like sand they fall through my fingers.
Today I talked about the trauma openly with a therapist. Talking about the first incident was the hardest. It easier as I recounted the next incident. She pointed out there was something new she saw in me. Not quite anger, no longer fear.
Confidence in myself. In knowing that he was the one who was wrong. Confidence that only blooms out of 7 years of suffering and buried pain.
And behind the confidence, there stood sadness and anger, interlocked. Sadness for the naive girl who was manipulated, overpowered and lied to. Anger towards the boy who stole her innocence with his selfish ways.
I am forgiving myself. I never did anything wrong. This was not my fault.