Category: Heartbreak

The Cycle

My first sexual experience was at the age of 16. I remember being upset about a recent break up with the guy who would later on break my heart for the 5th and final time. The next experience was after my grandfather passed away. I couldn’t handle losing the only father I ever knew.. The 4th heart break led me to my next experience. I know it’s sad that I can recall every single sexual experience I’ve ever had but like I said it’s a cycle, a pattern if you really think about it. The first time I had sex was because I needed a distraction and also the intimacy that came along with it. The second time was because I was afraid he would cheat and leave. And the third time was because I thought it’d make him stay and we would reconcile. It wasn’t until now I realized that I used sex and pleasure as a distraction from my emotions. I never did anything just for fun or because I really wanted to. 

I think that’s why I’m so confused. After meeting you and knowing you, I can’t come up with a reason to do anything with you other than because I want to and because I want you. Sad thing is I don’t feel like you want me or like me even though you say you do because you don’t try to get into my pants. It’s so fucked up that I need to feel somewhat sexually harassed in order to feel good. But I’m willing to try to be less insecure because you’re a gentleman and because deep down I know you deserve better.

Fear

I’m scared. The funny thing is I never used to be scared. I used to be a bit naive and maybe a little foolish. A small part of me used to believe that not all men were the same, that there were actually some pretty good guys out there. I never used to be insecure, I never needed to use make up to feel beautiful. It’s funny how one person could change how you see yourself entirely. Because of you I’m afraid to love but most of all I’m afraid to love myself. I’m starting to get to know myself again and doing the things I used to love. I’m becoming strong again but I’m not quite there. There are days when I feel 100% great but then we step into your side of town and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder. So afraid that I am lingering on the edge of a nervous breakdown. The simple thought of you sometimes causes me to almost have an anxiety attack. I try to hide it because I’m just as tired of talking about you as my loved ones.

The saddest part is that I met someone. A guy who is willing to get to know me and love me. He didn’t run when I accidentally broke down and spilled the story of our tragic love affair. I know more about him in the month that we’ve been talking than I’ve known about you in all four years of having you in my life. He makes me laugh and he gets my jokes. But I can’t let go of this fear in the pit of my stomach. I’m so scared he’ll realize I’m not worth it and walk away. I’m scared that he’ll end up loving me but most of all I’m terrified that I’ll end up loving him. Because what if he turns out to be like you?

I don’t know how to stop overthinking it because that’s what I do nowadays. I think of everything that could go wrong. I’m stuck between thinking that I’m capable of being loved, that my past doesn’t define me and thinking that I’m worthless and disposable. It’s an never ending battle that I seem to be losing…

The truth hurts..

The truth hurts… I never fully understood the phase until just a couple of seconds ago. Though I don’t know the truth of the situation, I know the two possible answers will hurt me either way. For months I’ve wanted the answer to the same question that could only be answered by you. The same question that seems to be on my mind on a constant day to day basis. Did you ever love me? Like really love me?

If you were to say you did love me even just a little bit then I know at some point you fell out of love with me because the way it ended and the words that were said could only be said by someone who truly didn’t care. 

If you say that you in fact didn’t love me and that it was a game all along then I know I was stupid. Undeniably stupid..pathetic even. Because I not only came back to you once, twice or even three times. I came back four times. What girl would give her heart and the gift of being her first to a guy who pretends to forget her name? But maybe that says a lot more about me than it does you…