I walk down the hallway. All by my lonesome. I’m down. Trying to ignore everyone. I look up and see everyone so happy. It feels like I’m seeing everything in slow motion. Everyone laughing with their friends, or couples holding hands and smiling. They look so happy. When I walk past you, I see you with your new girlfriend. Or a girl that you like at the moment. The way you look at her. With “love and compassion” in your eyes…. You used to look at me like that. Every time I see you in class or in the hallway, horrible flashbacks of what we had, attack me inside.

I`m guessing you thought I didn`t give a s***, when you tried your best to cheer me up at my worst, when I had tears gushing down my face. That`s a lie! I gave a s***. You`d make my days complete. I was happy I had you by my side. It would always make me smile when you would look in my eyes and say “everything is going to be ok”

That one conversation. Our last conversation. The last thing I said to you; “Don’t worry about it.” Those words, I deeply regret saying. I wish I could go back in time. To that day. To say something different. I said sorry a million times. After that, you took everything I said, the wrong way. The last day that we were together, I told you. “I love you. I don’t want this relationship to end!” I wish that I had more time to explain. Five minutes doesn’t give me a lot of time.

A secret. A memory. Destroyed you and me. I chose not to tell you because I knew that you would see me differently. I might as well tell you, now that we aren’t together….

I was molested in seventh grade…

It continued on throughout that whole year. You`re probably thinking “That’s bullshit!” or “How is that even possible when we were going out?!” My answer; it stopped when we started dating, and I was young and stupid! I thought that they would stop…. They didn’t.

Typical you. Needing an explanation of what happened…

The first week of school, in class, boys would come up to me and get to know me. Typical. But sadly, as the week went on, I became more popular with the guys. So popular in fact, that one day, a guy came up and tried to grab my ass. He succeeded. It wasn’t a random slap on the ass. He grabbed it really hard to the point where I screamed. I reacted and backhanded him. All his friends would be like “ooooooh b**** wutcha gonna do now?!” After that day, guys tried even more to mess with me.

In English class with Mr. Meyer; during read-aloud, boys would play rock-paper-scissors, to see who was going to touch the “new girl” (as I was called) first. They would play the nervous game on me. Sometimes just randomly come up to me and run their hands up between my thighs. They would even do the same thing when I fell asleep on the floor.

If I wore a skirt, even though it wasn’t short at all, they would try to grab me.

At the time, I was naïve and stupid. At times, I didn’t care. Most times I told them to stop… They never did.

On the way to lunch, a group of five or six guys would get close and try to grab me. They would reach for my boobs and everything below my waist. If I ran, they would chase me. They`d pinned me to the wall.

When I was sitting on the ground in front of the orchestra room, a guy would come up and T-bag me. He would try and force me into giving him a blow job.

Sometimes, a guy would “hug” me so tight; basically I would start screaming because it hurt! They thought I was moaning sexually. I told them to stop. They only molested me more. They thought I wanted more. I told them to stop… They never did.

During assemblies, guys behind me would pull me backwards in between their legs. They`d laugh. I told them to stop it. They`d laugh again and say “you know you like it.” When in reality, I didn’t

Boys would tell me not to move, as they were touching me, or they`d beat you up. I loved you way too much, to see you get hurt. So I would sit still and let them do what they wanted to me. A tsunami of tears drenched my face.

Honestly there is so much more that happened. So much more I can tell you. But as I write this, tears pour down my face. I wish you could understand. I`m traumatized for life. I`m bruised. I`m scard. The memories won’t go away! I wish you would take the time to understand. But apparently, I’m just another girl to you.

These memories. Haunt me like a never ending nightmare. It feels as if my mind is emotionally and mentally caged in a straight jacket. Every day, I feel like I`m in a dark room. A projector replaying my memories, over and over again.

Every god dam day. A new cut is made on my wrist. Each scar is a memory. Each scar is a flashback that I can’t control. My wrist looks like it’s been attacked by a wild animal. Scars everywhere. Some deep. Some lighter than others.

Typical you. You assume that I cut myself. Just for attention. My razor blade. My metallic version of heroin. Think of it like this; my pain is an air pocket underneath my skin. Think of my razor blade, as a zipper on that air pocket. Now, think of unzipping that zipper. All the air is released. That’s how it is, with me and pain. I don’t cut myself, hoping that I might miraculously and accidently cut to deep and die. I cut myself to feel something. To release the pain within me. It`s an escape. Everything goes away when I feel a rush of adrenalin and the sight of blood gushing out of my wrists.

This memory changed the way my parents act between me, and a relationship. They became over protective over me. My mom, (since she`s white) threatens to get a shotgun and shoot anyone who hurts me again. Knowing her, she will do it…

You think I`m bullshiting. You are clearly f***ing a buffalo! “Stupid emo” were you exact words to me. The day you said that to me, I died inside. I thought you loved me. In my head, I scream and cry, “I wish you knew!”

It kills, and consumes me inside. It’s extremely difficult to explain to people the whole story, without crying. I`m terrified of what you`d say, or how you would react if I told you. Only four people know what happened to me out of all my friends. Two people know the entire story.

Every relationship that I`ve had so far this year, I`ve never been truly happy. The smallest things that happen around me trigger flashbacks. Flashbacks that I can`t control.

In the end, I miss the friendship. I cannot stand without talking to u. It`s like a part of me was ripped out. I miss us sitting together at lunch, talking about the most random-est crap ever. I miss being able to talk to you about anything and you wouldn’t judge me. You would just be there to listen and support me full and through. I miss just laughing the day away with you. Every time you would hug me, you`d make my stress and problems melt away. Every bit of sadness would disappear. Nothing would matter, except you. With my head to your chest, I would get lost in listening to your heartbeat. I miss my best friend!

But for the past few months now, I began to hate what you`ve become; Rude, selfish, mean, and judgmental to me, and inconsiderate towards everyone else. I hate that! I miss the old you.

For far too long. I`ve fallen way to hard for you. I guess that just proves how much I would’ve gone out of my way to make it last with you. The beginning of this school year, you asked me out at my volleyball game. I said yes, hoping that we get a chance to make the relationship last longer than the last time we went out in 7th grade. Two and a half months. I kept my promise to you. I would go out with you again when freshmen year started…. and I did. This time it only lasted two-three weeks. The day you broke up witch me, it was our last volleyball game…. I could barely focus. I loved you!

In class, it`s hard not to stare at you. Just to look deep into your eyes. Just to fall into a trance. Admiring all the different shades of green, and brown. Your eyes are like a kaleidoscope of colors different colors. When you catch me looking at you, I look away. I won’t lie. You’re still very cute. I wish you were still on the inside.

In the inside, there’s still a part of me that still loves you, and wishes we would’ve lasted.

All that I can say now is;
I`m sorry for all the troubles I`ve caused you.
For believing you`ve changed
For believing you when you said you wanted to be with me forever
For believing, and hoping you loved me
For wasting yours, and my time.

I fell down on my face. You were the rock I tripped on. I`m picking myself up. Dusting myself off, and moving on. I`ve found someone that loves me for who I am on the inside. He makes me laugh, and smile, just by thinking about him. He accepts me, for me, and won’t judge me at all.

I want you to know. At one point in time, I would’ve died for you. Done anything for you. I cared about you. The best memory ever with you, was that day when we were video chatting. Your mom was pissing you off. You called your sister, crying. I told you to ride your bike to the chevron gas station because I wanted to see you, and make sure you were ok. You thought I was kidding at first. But then I told you “I’d do anything for my bubi.” you smiled, and told me you loved me. When we met up at the Chevron gas station, I called you to see where you were. I saw you riding your bike, and jumped out of the car. I ran up, and hugged you. I asked if you were alright. You said “yeah” but sounded unsure. I hugged you again and said “I`m here for you bubi!” You kissed me on the cheek and said “thank you!” My mom drove up to us and asked if your mom was kicking you out. You shook your head. She said “well we have to go.” I gave you another hug and said “I hope you feel better!” You said thank you. I said “I`ll see you tomorrow.” After that, we both said bye to each other, and left. When I left you, I felt so happy that I made you feel better!

All I can say to you; I`m sorry for everything….. I miss you bubi...