Dear me (and you),
This black hole is familiar. You traveled down it roughly three and a half years ago. Back then you said to yourself, “I’ve never been this hurt.”
I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but that has changed. Right now, you have never been this hurt. Three and a half years ago was a cake walk compared to wrenching the knife out of your back now.
You reach your arms back to grasp it, twist it left and right, but somehow, the knife lodges deeper. You drop your arms to your sides.
Every day is like an alternate universe. You wake up each morning, hoping you dreamt it, but when reality hits, you wish you could fall asleep again. You’d rather have nightmares than be awake for real life.
No matter how many, “You’re a great girl! You’ll find someone better!” comments you hear, right now you only blame YOU.
Your brain is screaming, “What’s wrong with me? Why am I not good enough? Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?”
Subconsciously you know those thoughts are irrational. But when you’re spiraling downward, down the rabbit hole, you can’t think straight. When the reality is that he found someone else, someone prettier, someone better, it’s impossible not to blame yourself.
Three and a half years ago, you swore you wouldn’t allow someone to hurt you again. You broke that promise. You put your stitched up, bruised little heart in his palm. And he squeezed it. The contents are everywhere. Exploded on the wall.
How can you clean yourself up now? You may as well get out the mop.
Weakness and naïveté aren’t what caused this. It wasn’t stupidity. No matter how much you think that, it’s not. It was hope.
Despite the pain cutting you up every day, you had hope. A tiny sliver of light peeking through the tunnel of depression. While humanity crushed you, you had hope that he was the one coming to pick you up. To save you from yourself.
I’m sorry. So sorry that he is another enemy you have to guard yourself from. I’m sorry that your armor is back in place, that you’re wearing your mask once more, and that you’re fighting against anyone breaking through. I’m sorry that life is a war for you right now.
The familiar pain is unavoidable. I wish I could fast forward it, numb it, erase it. I know you vowed never to be “here” again, but history repeats itself.
Romantic movies, love songs, or anything that remotely reminds you of that knife sticking out of your back will cause the downward spiral. Falling asleep and waking up are the most painful times of every day. He will haunt your dreams. He will become another ghost you’re battling to forget. You’re terrified he has already forgotten you. Never in your life have you wished time travel to be possible more than you do now.
You can’t erase him. You can’t forget. No amount of time can change that. You will hate him. But the memories will fade to another lifetime. Someday, he won’t matter anymore. He will be a ghost who no longer haunts you. Just like the last.
It takes longer than you’d think. Time is another one of your enemies.
I know you’ve given up hope. I know that “love” is just another four-letter word. But hope will creep back into your life. I promise. It’s okay to give up for now. It’s okay to be a mess. It’s okay to hate him.
One day, you’ll know it wasn’t your fault. You’ll look at yourself in the mirror again. You’ll smile. You will see a girl you’re not ashamed to be.
No matter how isolated you are, know that you’re not the only one. You’re fighting the same battle as thousands of other girls (and guys) out there.
Someday you’ll accept that it wasn’t your fault. It never was. Once you realize this, you will reach back, rip the knife out of your back, and the gash will stop bleeding.
Even if no one else can be trusted, and you believe that everyone is out to hurt you (I know it may appear that way at times), be your own ally. Right now is a time to trust yourself. It’s crucial.
You will save your life.
I love you.