Have you ever been in a relationship where you were kept at arms length?
Close enough so they know you’re there but far enough that you’re just holding on by a thread.
Where going to visit is mostly going to end with you going home.
Where the closest thing you get to romantic was your first date and maybe a text or two.
Where everything else seems like a burden because you have to ask for it.
Where you sit here wondering when it’s going to end because you know it will eventually.
When you sit and wonder why you’re still doing it when you have a tattoo forever on your arm as a reminder of how enough you are.
Telling yourself that you’ve done this before and it wasn’t right then so why is it suddenly okay now.
Beating yourself up for letting it happen and getting played.
Made to think that you are important but only being given enough that only makes you somewhat question why the fuck you’re still sitting here.
What’s stopping you from leaving? You have your shoes on, you’re on your second ciggarette and your coat is on your lap but you’re still fucking sitting here.
I wrote this blog about a week ago and at the time these were my thoughts. Since then I have built up the courage to share my concerns and figured everything out but I still wanted to post this as a reminder to myself since this has happened to me multiple times even though it doesn’t need to.
I do not owe anyone my time if they so clearly don’t want it.
I would first like to add an introduction to this post, I am about 5 months in to writing a Novella, this is chapter 5. This is not meant to harm but more to inform but that’s not to say it wont trigger anyone. Keep that in mind when you start to read, I will understand if you cant. Comments, suggestions and questions are welcome.
Chapter Five: Fuck You.
It feels like hours pass while his fingers turn into his hand and I’m confused. I’ve liked him for years and I’ve honestly thought about this, dreamt about it even. But I can also say that when I thought about it, I didn’t have the same scared feeling as I do right now. His hand moves higher and I can’t speak, but he can. This isn’t how I want it to be. He’s saying something soft but his hand is moving hard and suddenly I’m on the ground. I can’t breathe. He’s still talking as his hand moves higher up my dress and I feel his fingers underneath my underwear. I can’t breathe. I’m talking now. I know I’m talking and I know he can hear me saying no. As my underwear slide off and I feel the ground underneath me, he’s on top of me. I can’t breathe. I swear that I’m telling him to stop as he kisses my neck while his hand moves between my legs. No. Why can’t I fucking talk? Why can’t he fucking hear me? I hear leaves rustling under us as he leans away to unzip his pants. Why can’t he fucking hear me talk? I feel him push in me as all of my air pushes out. I can’t breathe but it seems like he’s not having any trouble. Over and over I can feel only him. Breathe in, breathe out. My eyes feel closed but I’m staring at the ground beside me. He pushes harder and I breathe less thinking I could just pass out and not even know what’s happening. I didn’t want this. Again. Leaves rustling. Again. His breath brushes against my cheek. Again. Hands pushing down my shoulders. It lasts forever until finally it doesn’t. He stops. I stop. I’m frozen to the ground while he gets up. Brushes himself off. I can’t breathe. He lifts me up, pulls my dress down and kicks my underwear past the trees. He walks towards his truck and I watch him while holding my stomach and try to find my voice again. He opens the door for me expecting me to take the invitation. Chivalrous.
I walk slowly, not taking my eyes off of the ground in front of me and get in without even touching the bottom of my dress. I can feel a leaf rubbing against my back under my dress as his truck cruises down the road. I can breathe again but barely. He’s completely silent besides tapping his fingers against his steering wheel, blowing out smoke. I keep racking my brain but no matter how I think about it I can’t figure out what I did wrong that made him think he could do this to me. He pulls up a block away from my house just when I don’t think I can handle the silence anymore. I see him watching me and smiling from the side mirror as I open the door to leave. I slide out of the truck and slam the door just as he says “thanks.” I can hear the smile on his face and I stand right outside his truck until I hear his tires pull away.
I start walking home thinking about everything that happened today and I feel crushed. I can’t believe that he could do this to me. I feel like trash. Crumbled up and thrown away. How could he do this? How could I let him do this? I step into the house and collapse on the floor and everything is quiet. As I’m sitting on the floor, folded over, sobs escape and fill the silence. My heart beats fast as the tears roll down my cheeks and my breath rises and falls, making up for lost time. I feel completely, overwhelmingly defeated. As I sit on the floor letting everything flood out, I lean my head back against the door and look up at the ceiling. If there was someone up there they wouldn’t let this happen? If there was anyone, anywhere, this would never have happened. I let out a long, deep breath and wipe a tear from the side of my nose just as I hear a car pull up into the driveway and I’m gone before anyone even knew I was here.
I’ve been in this same spot for three days. Ignoring Mom. Ignoring Paul. Ignoring everything. Sliding deeper and deeper into a tunnel. I finally stopped crying by now I just feel like a shell. I have no motivation, I’ve missed work for the last two days, giving the excuse of a stomach virus. I could tell that no one believes me when I say it but I don’t care. I just need time. I need to feel again. I need to think again. I need to think about anything but him. The only thoughts I’ve had for the last 3 days are fuck you. Fuck you for thinking you can do this to me, to anyone.
So, I know I’m only 22 but I feel like I’ve reached a trial and error point in my life. Everything I do and every job I get I don’t feel happy. I don’t feel like it’s what I want and I want to leave. To put it in perspective this is my 3rd day working for this company and those are the thoughts I’m having.
Granted I’ve only quit quickly once before this and then ended up having a mental breakdown but I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to feel like a failure for the 2nd time in barely a month.
BUT with that being said I also don’t want to feel stuck and unhappy anymore.
Now, this post started as a sob story but it turned into somewhat of a success story because thankfully my boss could see the “I quit” splattered across my face and pulled me aside.
She sat and talked to me for about 10 or so minutes, I can’t honestly remember what she said but I think the fact that someone actually cared and was willing to use their time to help me get through mine.
So now, the time when I thought I would be bawling in my car, I am calm. I still feel unsure but not to the point of making rash decisions.
Which in all honesty is better then nothing.
I’m having trouble today.
Life is being disrupted, debris is slowly being pushed up the shore.
Everything that’s getting to me right now based on my Remaining Positive post, are miniscule problems that I’ll forget about sooner than later.
But, right now. Considering my current predicament, they are massive.
They are massive and I’m having a very hard time keeping a positive head about it.
I know it will work out and I know I’m the mean time I will have help but it’s the dawn of these issues that are raising my stress level to a 7 out of 10.
I could even bring up my Make More Mistakes post and say that mistakes are great, unless someone’s telling you that you made one while dealing with something that already gives you anxiety and frustration. My suggestion is to not add anger to the mix.
So, once again, I’m here giving out advice that I struggle with following. Like I’ve said though, it’s not a switch you can flip. It won’t happen over night.
But I sure as Hell wish it did.