My Story Not Yet Complete

I am 14 years old. I have become friends with the monster. He tells me my body is a bit pudgy in certain areas. He tells me that they will pay attention to me if they can see me losing weight and counting calories. He is telling me all the things wrong with me that drove away my friends. This monster is ever present in my mind as the scale looms. He is holding my hand on the way to class. He is whispering lies in my ear as I speak with peers. He is telling me over and over again that I am unworthy of love. He likes to isolate me, you see. Hey, hey, but it’s okay. He is a jealous friend. He desires me all for himself. One on one relationships are better for us anyway right?

When I am 15 1/2 I think that the monster has been put to rest. I am going on dates and kissing boys. Yet I remember a not so far away time of kisses shared with the same sex and I am confused. My faithful friend comes back and tells me to fake it with boys. The result is a kiss in a tree with a friend/enemy watching from the ground, cheering on my humiliation; the result is an emptiness and a lack of knowledge of what love truly is and can be.

I am 17 and the dancing queen-except I am the unwanted burden of a daughter; the trophy daughter that did not recieve the trophy. I am kicked out and pulled back in. I am at last the one thing that no one wanted. The monster comes back to tell me it is all my fault. The monster is back to whisper that I am unloveable, I am a dark cloud, I am a failure, I am a stray dog that they took in for charity yet realized they don’t like dogs much later. I am the extra fat that they could use to trim off.

I am 18 and alone in a new city with no one who knows my name. It’s me against the world. I have no friends for I am in a place where the familiar is no longer a thing on my radar; I have become a constant adventurer. I have a hard time trusting that the phrases that people say are just words; I have a hard time believing that people do not have a hidden agenda. I am consistently asking God why no one loves me. I am hearing the whispers of the monster that I am better off alone. I am feeling the spiraling not-so-soft pull of feelings of inadequacy and dreams of failures at events that have yet to occur. I am a displaced individual adrift the comments and feelings that others may or may not mean with malice.

I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am the warrior princess. I am Leslie Knope. I am Rapunzal. I am Sleeping Beauty. I am my own Prince. The monster is now a dragon that has grown so huge I cannot take it on by myself anymore. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am learning that asking for help is a good sign. I am 19 years and 1 week old. I am a student of healing now. I am growing from who I once was. My old friend has finally been slayed.

“The enemy is dead-and we have killed him.”

Cheers to a lifetime of depression. Cheers to a life left to live in freedom.

I am the burning bush. I may be rough around the edges and scratch and burn if you come too close to the core. But inside of me God is speaking. Don’t be afraid. Don’t run away. Don’t give up on me just yet.

You think I didn’t know. You’re a cheat.

Young and impressionable, I truly believed that you were simply shy and sweet and cute to boot. I felt lonely and unnoticed at times when you came on the scene of my life, and it was perfect timing for you to come in with your night in shining armor disguise. A new kid on the block, you saw something in me that drew you to my side and I was flattered and pleased to be noticed in a new way. Surely, this boy, this one boy, could be the one that I was searching for right? After all, opposites attract, right? I could not have been further from the truth. I was irritated at the very obvious fact that you were not mature enough to be dating me. Did that stop me from 9 months of dating you? “The slow learner is taught the lesson by repetition.” I tried to understand you, I tried to fix you, I tried to change you. I fell for excuses and put up with inappropriate behavior because I so craved the feeling of being loved I refused to acknowledge the truth-we were not compatible.

Possibly the worst feeling was feeling jaded. My hand limp at my side unheld and my lips puckered yet unkissed while her sheets were unkept and you both showing signs of lack of sleep.

What was it about me? Was it my moral standards? Was it my sense of self respect? Was it my pushy and demanding confidence?

Or maybe it wasn’t me at all.

Was it your shy nature? Was it your tendency toward deception? Was it your love of physical pleasure and displacement towards emotional intimacy? Was it the language barrier? Was it just bad timing?

Or was it a passionate night at a Korean summer camp with a stranger and a lie that you were too ashamed to admit until a wasted night and a drunken voicemail on my machine.

I, You, and Us

I wake up and run outside to breathe in the morning air and catch the beginning rays of the sun. 

I rush back inside at 530 and jump in the warm shower to wash away the night time sleepiness.

I get my phone to text you. I am about to send “GOOD MORNING HANDSOME!”

But. I don’t. 

I put my phone down and walk over to my closet to get dressed.

I go back in bed. 

I lay there. 

I don’t get up. 

I get sad. 

I realize you must have left already. 

I close my eyes. 

I begin to cry

Less than a minute later you walk back into my room.

You sit next to me.

I stop crying. 

“Babe?” 

I thought you had left

You stayed, and promised me forever. .

I’ll never ever leave your side. 

I mean it.

You said. 

You meant it. 

Odd. 

Never to Fade

I used to believe in 11:11 wishes, 

Used to dream of midnight kisses, 

I believed in these things and much more, 

But all that was in a time long, long, before, 

Before the boy ripped at my chest, 

Smiling, thinking he knew what was best, 

Tearing me limb from limb, reaching for my core, 

My insides are completely red, raw, and sore, 

Mutilated, none of these fairy tale dreams remain, 

My once white canvass has a permanent stain, 

a stain made in a fit of red passion all too fast, 

I guess intimacy and love were never meant to last, 

All my birthday wishes never did come true, 

Every day no longer bright, but gray & blue, 

Waking up in this big bed all alone, 

Searching for a nonexistent note by the hotel phone.

The young, beautiful boy disguised as a sheep, 

Snuck out quietly as a wolf, leaving me stuck in sleep. 

Transparent

Once upon a time, I loved you. I smiled at your stupid jokes, cried when you hurt, and cracked up when you tripped like a clutz. I fell for you and as I am paralyzed by the impact of the fall, I marvel at your beauty. I tilt my head to the left, come back center, to the right, back to center. It comes to me that I fell alone. You weren’t here to catch me. I saw you, but you never saw me. It’s like one of those nightmares where no matter how hard you scream or cry or run or destroy things, no one notices you. Like a window, I feel transparent. In class, as the teacher droned on and on, I caught your eye and you winked. I inhaled sharply and stared down at my desk, at the inscription some idiot made, Math Sucks. I feel my cheeks burn as if I was sun burnt. I almost risk a glance up at you, but I know I shouldn’t. I mean, I’m sure you think I’m some creepy stalker chick already. I’m not though. Well… not really. Honest! I just wish you could see me as a door to open, or a path to walk down, or even a flower to pick and leave; anything other than a plexi-glass window.

Once upon a time, I loved you.

P.S. I continue to live in that fairy tale.