Since September I have felt trapped in my own mind. My feelings have been kidnapped, yelling from inside my head, refusing to give up, but resisting my constant effort to bury them. A part of me that I locked away in a tiny corner of my own brain and refuse to let loose. I put a smile on my face, but inside I want to scream. I hear the same sentences repeated at me over and over. I start to feel numb when I hear the same words trickle over someone’s lips.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“I’m so sorry he was an ass.”
“I hope he’s going to jail.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Didn’t you see this coming?”
“How did you not see this coming?”
Over and over and over on repeat.
I smirk at the common responses to my sob story. These words mean nothing once they hit my brain. I watch everyone’s mouths move but the words hit me and turn into alphabet soup. The reaction that appears on my face is merely the reaction I know is expected of me. I actually want to scream. I want to scream at the top of my lungs until the ground is shaking. But I smile. I smile and I take a deep breath that fills my lungs until I can’t fill them with any more of my warm breath. My reactions have purely been what I think is expected of me. How much longer can I go pretending that it doesn’t hurt when someone asks me how I didn’t see this coming? Every time I hear someone say how terrible of a person he is I cringe as if they were insulting me and not him. Does anyone realize that I’m about to explode?
The tears have built up inside of me like the water behind a dam. I’ve tried to force them out but they won’t budge. I continually sit myself down and try to cry in hopes that some sort of human emotion will leave my body but I can’t seem to achieve it. I sit on the cold floor of the bathroom and run through the night over and over. I play the night through my head trying to spark an emotion but no tears leave my body. I feel a dark hole in the pit of my stomach. My body shakes. My mind is yelling at me to forget about the darkness and pain. But I can’t seem to cry. For months and months, I’ve tried to get this feeling out of my body. It needs to escape but it is continually trapped in the dark corner of my mind.
It is eating me alive and I can’t seem to shake this monster from inside of me. It’s become a part of me. A parasite living inside that I can never shake free. Some days I feel like Sydney and some days I feel like this monster. This heartless, emotionless monster that will never to be able to learn to love. No matter who says the word love to me it slips off their tongue and into a rain puddle. Into a deep abyss. It’s a lie. No one loves me. Who could love me? This monster that’s grown to be who I am. No one can love that. I don’t deserve to be loved.
You convinced me I don’t deserve that. You convinced me love is not real. It does not exist. It is a figment of our imaginations that we teach ourselves to believe in. You convinced me I’m not worthy of it. Day and day again I get beat down. I wait for someone else to care about me but you’ve ruined me to a point of no return. There’s only so much you can beat something up until it’s damaged to no end. If you continually swing a bat at a helpless chair, the chair is going to cease to exist. It is going to fall into a million little pieces. Eventually, the pieces won’t be able to be placed back together again. The chair won’t be able to be sat in. It won’t be able to be placed in a classroom. It won’t be able to be cherished by another. The chair will be nothing. It will be thrown away. Tossed to the side of the street waiting to be taken away. You beat me down to a million little pieces. So many little pieces I won’t be able to be put back together again. When someone tries to cherish me, love me, use me for something good, I won’t be worthy anymore. I won’t be useful. I’m not a full person anymore. I’m only a million little pieces, waiting to be picked up and placed back together to be loved again. I’m scared I’ll never be able to be placed back together because of you.
I push people away because I no longer have trust. You stole it from me when you stole away my confidence, my strength and ability to love. You stole it all away from me. You stole away my ability to feel emotions. I try so hard to feel something towards you but I have no more feelings left in that corner of my heart. A piece of my heart that once held you has shriveled up and disappeared, ceasing to be a part of me. It has left a gaping open hole, that no one else can seem to patch back up again. The second someone comes along with a piece of a heart to pass along, my heart rejects it, turning away and turning it down.
I am happier, better and stronger without you. But something is not quite the same anymore. The part of me that knew how to love and the part of me that knew how to let someone love me. I lost all trust. Everyone is out to hurt me. That pushes people away. Telling people you don’t trust them from the moment you meet them, sends them running. No one wants to hear someone thinks they’re a terrible person when they did nothing of the sort. But that’s what I do now. I tell everyone that they’re the asshole, that they’re the bad guy, the untrustworthy one. But no one else is. It was you. Someone tries to hug me and I flinch, in anticipation of a fist coming towards my face. Someone tries to high five me and I duck in anticipation of a sort of pain I can faintly remember now. Someone tries to kiss me and I fall into their lips, but in the back of my mind, I’m scared. A tiny voice screaming inside saying “don’t trust them”. A tiny voice trying to convince me that they too are going to hurt me. Someone tries to hold my hand and I pull away, not wanting to be touched by someone else who could use their own hand to hurt me. My body goes into shock when someone tries to show any emotion towards me. I don’t like to be touched. My body freezes and a rush of memories return to the front of my brain. I didn’t only lose my sense of trust, but my sense of security and safety. I don’t trust anyone to care about me. I don’t trust anyone to tell me the truth. I don’t trust anyone to not hurt me.
So I walk through my days as Sydney on the outside, but deep down I am different. Deep down I am not the compassionate, overly-loving and kindhearted Sydney. I am cold, overly sensitive, scared and fragile. I used to have so much love to offer. I was so passionate about everyone that came my way. Now I’m scared to love. I’m scared to show compassion and emotion. This was a part of me. It made me part of who I am. But you stole this away. You stole a part of me that made me me. At this point of my life I have figured out who I am. I decided who I want to be and I’ve worked hard to become that person. You stole a piece of me that I’ve already decided I wanted to keep. I am no longer my full self and I want that part of me back. I don’t want to flinch when someone moves their arm. I don’t want to cry when someone tries to touch me. I don’t want to be scared to walk through life fearing no one can love me again.
I am not sure if I’ll ever get this part of me back. The real me may be buried deep in my mind in a tiny corner. I’ve tried to reach in and pull it out, but I can’t seem to find her. You have morphed me into a person I no longer recognize in the mirror. A person who’s left eye is smaller than her right and who’s ability to love and be loved has been stolen away. You have changed me. I am scared I will end up pushing everyone away. But maybe I will reach deep down and find the corner of me that needs to explode. The corner of me that needs to release some deep emotion that was locked away. The part of me that doesn’t know if she hates you or not. The part of me that wants to hate you but gets confused. The part of me that still can’t cry about what happened that night. Maybe the real Sydney will come back one day and I won’t have to blame you for my unhappiness. But for now I do not see the lift of happiness approaching.
I am not who I am and not who I want to be, but I do know I am better than you and will always be stronger than you have ever been, even when I’m not 100 percent myself. One day the tiny million pieces will be placed back together again, maybe not exactly the same as before, but still placed back together stronger than before.