I always get so awkward over this stuff. I mean, I hear people talking about it all the time; about how theyâ€˜re completely and utterly fucked up and how things are just so damn awful. Generally Iâ€™m the one to seek them out, cheer them all up, and set them back on track. But I bet it would be quite a shock to them if they ever knew that the constantly bubbly Jessica, is really a lost and self-hating girl.
Iâ€™m pretty sure it all started about 12 years ago when my father died. The body had been put on display, and me being an unknowing child at the age of 7 had touched the corpse. I had been under the impression that he was merely asleep, but damn was that ever an eye opener. The body hadnâ€™t been properly prepared, and so in touching the body, the skin had sunken through. This evidently lead to me being traumatized. After 3 years of therapy, I was finally â€˜curedâ€™ of my nightmares and reclusive behaviour.
3 more years passed and I graduated from elementary school. When I entered my first year of high school I had decided to try online dating. The relationship was cool at first, but as time went by I wanted something more than just a couple of pretty words on a screen. I broke things off, and thatâ€™s when everything went wrong. He threatened to kill himself over it. I brushed it aside because I knew he was doing it to get my attention and trap me back in the relationship. Before I knew what was going on, I started receiving all these e-mails from various accounts talking about how he was in the hospital. One was even from his mother; written in anger over my ignorance of the situation. The guilt weighed on me, and I ended up taking off into the night. I tried to kill myselfâ€¦ but I was too afraid to see it through.
I continued on with my daily life with the weight of everyoneâ€™s words on my shoulders. My grades plummeted, my friends walked away from me, I lost my appetite and stopped sleeping. I just wanted to dieâ€¦ and thatâ€™s when I got an e-mail from the guy saying he made everything up; that all the e-mails were from him. I never forgave him and we went our separate ways. Although I was now in the knowledge that it was all a fake out, I never forgot the weight nor the way that everyone had abandoned me in my time of need. I learned to never rely on friends again. After that I gradually began to lose control of my emotionsâ€¦
About a year passed and my silent grief grew bit by bit. I broke my word to my grandparents to move in with them, and it resulted in their moving out west. My grandfather loved the idea, my grandmother hated it. She developed chronic depression and blamed all their troubles on me. Every time she saw me she would say things like, â€˜if only you had moved back home,â€™ â€˜if you had just come back then we wouldnâ€™t have had to leave.â€™ once again the weight of words weighed down upon me. I strongly blamed myself for her deteriorating mentality. Eventually her health returned and she apologized for what sheâ€˜d said, but I never forgotâ€¦
Half a year passed and my grandfather was diagnosed with prostrate cancer. He was like a father to me, and the thought of losing him just crushed me. The feeling of helplessness surrounded me once more, and I began to fall into despair again. Another half a year went by and my grandfather passed away. I still remember my mother breaking the news to me. It was the same time she informed me that sheâ€™d lost her job and that we had fallen into quite a lot of debt. I was given the choice to go to the wake at the cost of more debt ,or not to prevent us from accumulating any more debt. We mutually agreed that weâ€™d both stay behind. I picked up a third job and without my knowing, my mom snuck out on a plane without me. I later was informed that on his death bed, my grandfather had called for me and had looked for me each dayâ€¦ but I never showed up. That broke my heart a little more.
At the time I had been dating who I thoughtÂ was the love of my life. He was my best friend and my love. We had been together for just over a year and were more than just a little serious about each other. I had asked him for his support and explained that I wouldnâ€™t be able to support him from that time onward until I got back on my feet; between my 3 jobs, school and my despair. I didnâ€™t really have much energy left. But he was incapable of doing so. Instead he was more interested in having sex and receiving my shoulder than lending me his. I began to lose my patience and he gradually became mentally -and emotionally- unstable. He began saying things like, â€˜you donâ€™t love me,â€™ â€˜youâ€™re only using me,â€™ â€˜you could careless.â€™ It wasnâ€™t that I didnâ€™t care, I just didnâ€™t have the ability to lie to myself anymore; I didnâ€™t have the ability to put everything that I needed on the sidelines only focusing on him any longer. Things like, â€˜Iâ€™m happy as long as heâ€™s happyâ€™ were no longer acceptable when I could barely stand my own ground. I knew I was being selfish, but I had allowed him to be selfish throughout the entire relationship, and this was all I wanted. I just wanted to be the weak one for once, the person to cry until my heart was content, until there were no more tears. Instead I was forced to focus on him, and work, and school, and the billsâ€¦ everyone was still relying on me and I wasnâ€™t able to shed a single tearâ€¦ no one even cared that my heart was slowly twisting away into nothing. Once more my friends abandoned me. Once more I found myself in the darkness alone.
He was miserable, I was miserableâ€¦
So I thought to break things off. But he got worse. He started cutting himself and saying how it was caused by me, how if only I hadnâ€™t left things wouldn’t have to be this way. I watched as the marks grew more frequent and deeper. I had been angry at him, but in that moment, all I wanted to do was be strong enough for the both of us and save him. I wanted to save him so badlyâ€¦ even though I had been hurt so badly by him, I still loved him as much as ever. So I found someone who looked easy enough to manipulate and asked him out. I thought if I was with someone else heâ€™d get better, that heâ€™d give up. So this way we could still be friends and I could keep him near at least. But he got even worse, and even more unstable. So I did the only thing I could think of.
I lied and broke my own heartâ€¦
I provoked a fight, one I knew would send him running from me. I said everything heâ€™d need to confirm that I had no love for him. I shoved him a few times, I yelled and threw things at him in order to make him hate me more. I pushed him right out of my house and slammed the door loudly in his faceâ€¦ and all the while my heart broke. But if he were to lose nothingâ€¦ then heâ€™d feel no pain. If I were to become nothing, then he wouldnâ€™t be trapped anymore. So I broke my heart and set him free. He replaced me almost immediately.
At first it was fine, just a small pain in my chest. But gradually it grew into something I could no longer control. Now the pain is immeasurable and suffocating. It feels like itâ€™s slowly but surely strangling me. It sounds over dramatic, but it really isnâ€™t. I canâ€™t sleep without dreaming of him, can’t be awake without thinking about him, can’t do anything without provoking the twist in my chest. I loved him before, I loved him when I set him free, and even nowâ€¦ I still love him. But heâ€™ll never know.
I feel so pathetic for wanting to die over something so trivial as love, not to say everyoneâ€™s love is trivialâ€¦ I just think it feels so lame compared to those with reasons far more dire. Itâ€™s kind of like what Andrew used to always tell me. He’d always chastise me for wanting to run away each time my mother would grab me byÂ my hair and drag me across the floor saying, â€˜youâ€™ll get to the shelter and all the kids will be talking about how their parents beat them nearly to death, and when they ask you what will you reply? â€œI ran away because my mommy tugged on my hairâ€ Theyâ€™ll chase you out of there.â€™ Iâ€™m not saying that the abuse wasnâ€™t abuse, because it quite clearly wasâ€¦ but itâ€™s the thought that whatâ€™s happening to me isnâ€™t nearly as bad as whatâ€™s happening to someone else. That someone has a far better reason to be there -or in this case gone from here- than me. I donâ€™t knowâ€¦ I donâ€™t even know why Iâ€™m writing this here. Writing this fragment of my life wonâ€™t cure me, it wonâ€™t â€˜saveâ€™ me, it wonâ€™t protect me from myselfâ€¦
Sometimes I just wish someone could be my saviour for onceâ€¦ just once