A rough year comes along with many fears. The fears come along with many tears. Two surgeries, one stomach disease, one flu, one near death experience, one loss of passion and self identity, and a series of mentally damaging events were the beginning. Having a relationship where you are completely and utterly happy. This is where the damage is started. Because here, your heart feels full. You feel warm, and comforted. He makes the words that those girls are throwing around like a baseball hurt less. He makes them mean nothing. Then, the sky comes falling down and your world is torn to pieces. He broke your heart. So. You move on. It’s fine.
On to the next. This one is different; things aren’t as simple as they were last time. The hardships are hurting less. The fights are lasting longer and he only wants one thing from you, but he’s the only one. The only one here for you in this hard time. You break your foot. Not only the foot. You crushed the heart, the soul. Your only passion — it’s gone. The knife digs into your bones, but not only your bones, your heart also. You had lost your sense of self. But he helped you find yourself — love yourself. But is this really you? I loved them both. But I had to let them go. It’s time. You move on. It’s fine.
On to the next. The alcohol, streaming into your father’s mouth day by day, week by week, year by year. It seems like he never stops. He doesn’t care to stop. Not for his two daughters who are hopelessly struggling. Not for his wife, who has been trying so hard and keeps fighting. Not for his father who had just lost the love of his life. Not to stop the fighting between him and his wife that is damaging the hearts and the souls of the little ones. Not to end the pain and suffering within himself. There’s nothing you can do. So. You move on. It’s fine.
You’re fine. You’re strong and you learned this in gymnastics-you can do it and you have it in you to make things better for yourself. You pull yourself together. You get a job. You love your job. You’re stressed over school work but your grades aren’t bad and you’re happy so you keep living. With no issues. You meet her. She’s beautiful. She’s unique. She is the one you want. You fall in love with her, but you have to hide it. You try so hard but soon the smiles and stares at work turn into phone calls and cookies and you can’t help but move faster. The phone calls and cookies turn to nights at her house and flirting around her friends. But, you can’t tell your parents because you know. You know what will happen. You hide it. Wow. Things are looking up and you’re completely happy with life in this moment.
Honey, what are you talking about? Happiness can not possibly walk into your life and come so easily with no distractions. The sadness and darkness with not be concluded. The one you used to love. The boy that helped you through the pain of losing yourself. He comes back. He tells your parents about her. About the love of your life. You come home and you get screamed at and bashed for hours and hours and the chaos never ends. ‘Dyke’ has come out of her mouth a million times now and you can’t take it anymore. You have never wanted to end your life so bad. Your mom wants to kill herself because she expected a perfect poster child and didn’t get one, your dad’s alcohol is streaming, and the neighbors are annoyed to no end but that’s normal because there is always screaming going on at the Brinker house. You leave because you realize you’re a burden to everyone around you and your father only told you a million times. You get out only for your parents to threaten you into coming back. The cops come to yell only because you’re young and vulnerable. The happiest you have been in a long time is suddenly ruined and you lose yourself again. Again. You lost her. Your only sense of happiness anymore. Things happen. You move on. It’s fine.
On to the next. Your best friends. The ones you think are always going to be there for you, betray you and point out every tiny insecurity and flaw within yourself, when they are the ones that are supposed to pick you up when you fall. Make you laugh when you’re crying. Sing when you’re screaming. Take you out when you’re down. Your friends. They are slowly fading away because they hurt inside too and there is nothing you can do. Fade into much less than they used to be. But, you keep on looking up. Summer is almost here. You move on. It’s fine.
Finals are here. Tonight is the night you need to study your ass off because your grades were too bad before when all the horrible things happened to you. You drink a coffee and an energy drink to stay awake. You get pretty far into homework that night and suddenly you’re shaking and falling over, and you’re cold and hot at the same time. The stress and the caffeine and the fighting between you and your “best friend” is all hitting you at once. You lay in bed and try to think about happy things to fall asleep, worried that you may not wake up. You fall asleep. You move on. It’s… fine….
You wake up to your mother screaming at you. You're late but you are just happy you woke up. But wait... You don’t feel good. There is no way you can go to school and deal with finals today it’s too much... You will fail eleventh grade because these finals determine that. “Mom please stop yelling. I just need to talk to someone. Please.” The year is getting to be too overwhelming and it is all running through your head in the moment. All at once and you can’t stop thinking. Then you hear ‘retard’ and you think more. You think of all the horrible words they have called you. So many souls. So many different varieties of beings. They all bash on you and you’re perpetually in pain from the damage that has been done and there is no fixing it. But... you... Move on.
The priceless class that the college so nicely provided for you. You try so hard... But you’re so tired. You haven’t slept in two nights and the night has brought hardship. The nights before are dark. Paranoia. Night terrors. They bring harsh feelings and non-stop thinking. You can’t do it. Why the hell did you think you could anyways you f*cking idiot. You stay in bed and the clock is frantically ticking as class is about to start but you just lay there and all of the mean and nasty words your parents are screaming at you; you take it all in and begin to realize it’s true… You’re a failure. You can’t do anything. But. You pull yourself together, like the many other times you had to this year. You finally get the tiniest drop of confidence to get ready. The drop of confidence is coming from an ocean. An ocean of confidence that you should have but you constantly remind yourself that what all of the souls say. They are truthful. You’re getting ready. Then, the punishment and harsh words flow through harder. They are starting to hurt more and it’s louder. The voices are louder and meaner than ever before. You tried but you literally can’t do it anymore. Everything you have inside of you is gone and your energy has completely vanished so you ball up on the bathroom floor and proceed to cry. But you think to yourself. You're going to be fine it's only one class. You move on.
Actually no. You do not. You’re still overthinking and it will not stop. You're upset because your therapist tries so hard to make the thinking stop and the pain to go away. She brings uplifting thoughts and hope to your brain all for it to be crushed in one day. You can’t move on this time. It has been too much now and you’re tired. You need to accept that. He hurt you, the next hurt you, your parents continue to hurt you and then ponder and get inevitably confused as to why their daughter is such a failure. They don’t know what goes on inside. You’re... not fine.
But you keep going.