Tag Archives: depression

For someone from my Distant Past

It has been nearly seven years since we have crossed paths and seven years since I saw your face anywhere besides Facebook pictures and yet somehow you managed to impact my life in such a way that I have an inferiority complex when it comes to guys.

Seven years and still those words haunt me when attempting to pursue a romance or when I look in the mirror and see that overbite and those pimples that you reminded me of every day. To you, it all meant nothing. I was just that ugly, awkward girl in your class throughout all of middle school.

It didn’t matter at all to you how my innocent, naïve heart was crushed to a million pieces or how much I desired to down a bottle of pills because I believe every word you and your follower friends said. It didn’t matter to you how I would go to bed with a soaked pillow every night questioning why I was so hated by you. All I ever did was like you, and it resulted in cruel words that impacted me harder than the sharp edges of a thousand knives to my delicate heart.

If I could go back in time, my god how I would warn my thirteen year old self that you were not worth it. You were not worth pining after for my whole eighth grade year. Maybe I loved your dark eyes and your plump lips that curved into a beautiful bright smile, but those were the only distinctive features about you. On the outside you were a handsome, popular, brilliant athlete. On the inside, you were nothing but a cold, heartless bully who destroyed a young, fragile girl mentally.

Yet, where are you now? A nobody with dreadlocks that hopes one day someone will care about your mixtapes. If only thirteen-year-old me could see that this is what she was hopelessly infatuated with.

Yet, would I listen to my future self back then? Probably not. For I was living in a fantasy world. A world where you would be sensitive and kind-hearted. Where you would bless me with my first kiss and wipe away my tears. Where I would gaze into those big, brown eyes of yours and you would view me as beautifully as I viewed you. Where your words were much sweeter and comforted my damaged heart. Where you would stand up against those bullies, us against the world.

Perhaps, I fell for this fantasy version of you. Perhaps you were the embodiment of everything I desired to be with, popular and loved. That was something I was not for I was an ugly duckling that lacked social skills and the butt of everyone’s jokes. For this reason, my heart chose you and chose to put the fantasies in place of your horrendous personality.

I kept living that fantasy and desired a romance that never happened because in reality you were repulsed by me. You made it your goal for you and your friends to make my final year of middle school a living hell and not a day goes by where I wished that common sense would hit me that underneath those innocent eyes and baby face you were as ugly as you thought I was.

That boy who cursed me out then bragged about the next day to all his friends like it was something worth a reward, the boy who gagged when he found out how I felt about him, the boy who would tease my every movement and word, the boy who tried to spit on me and put dust in my hair, the boy who swore I was so repulsive that my slightest touch made him cringe, that was the boy you were.

When I looked at you again anytime after this epiphany hit me, I no longer saw those gorgeous dark eyes and that smile but rather an ugly little boy so overwhelmed by his own insecurities that he needed to follow his friends and pick on anyone below their pathetic little circle to fit in.

-Lisa Marie Wolf

 

 

Advertisements

For My First Boyfriend

No matter how much time has passed I will always remember your bright hazel eyes and that blonde patch of hair on your head. You were always one of a kind and someone I will never forget.

Why do I never write of you, then? Well, our romance was one in which words cannot describe. Even as I write this, I struggle to find the right words and tears begin to fill my eyes. Of every guy I have ever been involved with, you are deemed as the one who will always hold a special place in my heart. You had immense love and care for me and proved so with every kiss and touch and that will forever be something I will hold onto in my darkest days.

We could be described as nothing more than, to others, a prime example of love between two not yet blossomed adolescents. We were young, immature, and naïve. We were sixteen yet spoke of the future as though we had a clue. In our eyes, which were blinded by the strong feelings we had for one another, we were inseparable.

I think back to those months with you and think of it as not just a juvenile high school relationship but rather as one of the happiest points in my life. All I remember is butterflies, laughter, passionate kisses, and comfort in each other’s arms. I think of how you would get enraged when you saw tears run down my face and the time you exploded at a group of idiotic boys for stealing something from me. How we could talk hours upon hours about anything and how talking to you felt so natural in a time where I was socially awkward. I think of how I felt compelled to run to you and comfort you when I heard what you were dealing with.

We were perfect.

Sure, it does not excuse the agony caused by you flipping the switch and not desiring to be with me anymore in that summer of ’12. That week where I seemed to have an infinite amount of tears and where food did not seem to stay down in my stomach. Where dark circles remained under my eyes and I had no idea what sleep was anymore. I attempted to go out to forget that we were together and yet the mere sight of our former dating spots triggered those painful memories I so desperately wanted to erase. As did rereading that conversation over and over again and seeing that relationship status that you used to break up with me as opposed to confronting me and for weeks I believed I despised you for hurting me and not even giving a care. You got to run around with a smug look and flirt with who you pleased right in front of my face and there was not a damn thing I could do but cry in private and grieve a once-perfect relationship that fell apart. We were in the same high school for one more year so I faced you and watched you move on while I was stuck hopelessly devoted to those magical months despite how more distant in the past they were.

And for that year I embraced hope to rekindle that flame that was long burned out until my last day of high school came where I received my closure and an inevitable truth hit me; the were no hope of reconnecting for we were not meant to be. We kissed for the first time in months that day and yet there was no sparks or butterflies as there had been the year before. It didn’t matter how things had been because no matter how deeply in love we were or how we once looked at each other like we were each other’s world and spoke about the future because we were not meant to be.

Even if four years has passed and I discovered that you broke up with me not to hurt me, but rather to protect me from yourself and that will forever hold a place in my heart, I ponder if it could have worked out between us if things had been different. That is not the course life chose for us, however, and I thank you for giving me such beautiful memories to have of the first relationship I was in and allowing me to say that I was genuinely happy even if for just six months and all thanks to you. I wish nothing but the best for you.

-Lisa Marie Lupo

 

To A Special Someone 

Dear XXXX,
Are you happy?

You get to prance around with your girl, unaffected by the long-lasting impact what you did has caused me.

You were the first, and so far only guy I loved. The word “fuck buddies” used to leave a bad taste in my mouth when describing you to people because in my eyes you were so much more, and yet now it’s all I tell people we were because it’s easier than telling people how it felt to kiss you under the stars or how much I smiled whenever you texted me.

At one point or the other, the roles were switched and it was you that swore you had a thing for me. Maybe that was true, but my attention was elsewhere. All I know is that summer of 2014 I had suddenly took a liking for you. Was it the way you called me beautiful, or the way you kissed me in the rain by the Hudson River? Either way, I fell and fell hard for you. I would come to realize any old boy can call you beautiful or persuade you he want to be with you but I was eighteen and did not know any better.

I think about your eyes, your little smirk, your soft lips and oh god do I wish to rewind to that lovely summer and fall nearly two years ago and relive it all. I don’t even regret a single moment with you despite all the despair it came with.

“He’s just a dumb boy.” To me you were so much more. You were my reason to wake up every morning. You were the smile on my face and the beat of my heart. You were distinctive to any other guy I have met so far in my life. You were my friend, you were loyal and you would care enough to talk to me every day for months and months and get lowkey jealous when you saw me close with someone else. You did perhaps feel something too, or maybe it is just my perception that is blinded by love for you that is romanticizing even the littlest of things you did for me.

You were always the tears I shed for you each night. You were the influence of the darkest days of my life and the reason why I felt my heart shatter for the first time. You were the dark cloud that stayed over my head as I attempted to down those pills. You were the bruises on my wrists as I subjected to my harmful desires for the first time in a long time.

You were the first to present to me the cruelty of the real world. The people who betray you, who stomp all over your heart once they have it, those who see a vulnerable young person and use them to their advantage.

I gave you my body, my time, my love. When you finished with me, you ran off to her arms and left me with nothing but dead hope of me ever being able to call myself yours and with memories I wanted to force out my mind.

“My feelings are long gone.” Images of you and her. Facebook blocking. All of this while my mind lingered on you and only you and the wounds were still fresh. I briefly found comfort in the arms of another but you were still burned in the darkest depths of my mind.

You still are or else I wouldn’t be writing of you on a Thursday night with tears in my eyes of every embrace, kiss and painful exchange of words we shared in my head.

Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. Even if I have given up hopes long ago of rekindling whatever it was we were and even if I have gained interest in other people since then, I will never forget you. Over a year has passed and I still remember your dark eyes, your cheeks I loved pinching so much, your soft body, the way you loved dark colors, your love for anime & gaming, your introverted nature, your dark sense of humor, how you seldom spoke with emotion, your perverted attitude equivalent to my own, your beautiful smile, how special you made me feel.

My god, how I wish I could go back in time and do it all again. Be stupidly in love without saying it and have that perception of you again. It wasn’t you, but yet it made me happier than I have ever been in my life.

But I can’t, it was not meant to be and as you said, your feelings are long gone. You refused me a chance because you were not seeking commitment yet you have a chance to someone else when you were done with whatever you wanted with me.

For the earliest parts of 2015, and even now, I sometimes wonder if I cross your mind. If you think of my face or pass by a place where we made memories and miss me too. If it pains you to say my name and if you wish to run into my arms again. I wonder if you long to tell me all your troubles and hardships you face as I do with you.

Have I impacted your life as you had mine?

Probably not. Probably just some stupid little overly attached vulnerable girl you fucked and nothing more. You have someone now to call your own while I’m left with the scars of what you have done to me. It is easy for you to love again while I can barely let anyone in without pushing them away regardless of how I feel about them out of fear of history repeating itself.

You don’t care about that because you got what you wanted from me. You don’t care about how I can no longer be with someone without questioning their every motive nor about how someone could grow attached easily than others and how every moment we shared was more intimate and romantic than any moment I shared with any other guy so far.

I question how can I love again? Will I ever be able to or will I always be reminded of you whenever I do so much as even get close to a guy? Will I stop pushing people away and learn to trust again? Will these memories and your face forever haunt me?

Will I ever stop caring so much about you even if you are no longer a part of my life?

Clearly not, as I still write about you after so much time has passed since we last shared an intimate moment together and I still remember you so well and since you have impacted so much the scars still show whenever I have a new chance at happiness with someone else.

And even if I was too full of shame to admit it and you don’t ever deserve to hear it, whenever someone talks of the first time I ever really loved I will think of you.
-Lisa M.

 

The Death of Melanie Valentine 

Her blonde hair reached her shoulders and her bangs always covered her face. She was faceless aside from her dark red lips and tear-stained cheeks. She was obsessed with light floral dresses. In the cold weather her knees would be red and covered in bumps, yet she was numb to it. She craved the pain. “Melanie deserves it.” Says her older sister, Lexie. Her only sibling. Her sister despised Melanie since she was always stealing away the attention in the household.

“Melanie just takes up space.” Says her mother. Her mother despised Melanie for always creating unnecessary problems. Maybe at one point she loved her daughter, but the moment her daughter began keeping everyone awake with her sobbing at night and robbing money from the family with her need for therapy, she despised her existence. She truly believed it was all in her head. 

“She needs reassurance 24/7. It is quite an inconvenience.” Says her boyfriend, Brian. Brian loved Melanie’s vulnerability. The moment he realized that getting under Melanie’s skirt meant dealing with her poor mental state, however, he began to find his satisfaction elsewhere.

“She is always doing things for attention. When she is not the main concern of anyone, she makes sure she is.” Says her best friend, Isabelle. Melanie was once Isabelle’s shoulder to cry on. When Isabelle was finally cheered up, she refused to let Melanie’s depression rub off on her. 

“She nearly passed away from blood loss last week after she slashed her wrists. It’s a damn shame she didn’t, it might save us the service of having to put up with her.” Says Justin, Melanie’s ex-boyfriend. He was a narcissist that dumped Melanie once he decided that he could not put up with Melanie constantly crying for help anymore.  

The sleeves of Melanie’s dress always covered her wrists and the skirt covered her thighs, both of which were covered in cuts. 

“She does it for attention.” Says Lexie.

“She just wants everyone to pity her as if she has any real problems.” Says her mother.

“Ugly.” Says Brian, his eyes not leaving his phone.

“I noticed the cuts on her wrist. I don’t ask where they are from though because I know that’s just why she does it. She wants people to pretend to care about her.” Says Isabelle.

“If she is really that miserable, she should just dig the knife deep and finish the job.” Says Justin.

The day came where Melanie did just that. 

There was no warning or note. Melanie had been hoping for someone to take her warnings seriously and yet no one did so. 

Melanie, exhausted with trying to reach out to people and fed up with feeling agony and selfish for seeking help from those she had helped out with for many years, allowed the knife to dig into her wrists until the handle touched her skin.

“I deserve it.” Her last thoughts were. “Everyone hates me. I deserve it.”

Melanie was found the next morning, her lifeless body near cold and her pale pink dress stained with blood. 

“My baby!” Cried out Melanie’s mother, the first one to spot her daughter’s corpse.

 Days passed and everyone discovered of Melanie’s passing.

“She did it for attention.” Muttered Lexie bitterly. When she attended the funeral, she was thrown out the church due to the commotion she caused while delivering a speech of how her sister deserved to die because she was a nuisance. Her breath reeked of alcohol. 

Justin did not attend the funeral. When he scrolled past the news on his Facebook, he just smirked and said, “Looks like she did us all a favor.” Then he moved on about his day.

Her mom did not leave her daughters side from the wake to the funeral. “My baby.” She kept crying out. “I should have been there for you.” She screamed through her sobs as she reminisced Melanie listening to her complain about the abuse she received from Lexie’s father. “I was so selfish. Why didn’t I listen? Why didn’t I help you?” Melanie’s aunts had to drag away her mother from the grave because she attempted to jump in with her daughter’s coffin.

Brian was at work when he heard of his girlfriend’s death. He dropped his phone, which was his best friend, the moment he saw “R.I.P. Melanie Valentine” on his News Feed. After work, he ran to the wake and barely missed it. He observed his girlfriend for the first time in a long time and took in her beauty. Her bangs were pushed out of her face and her face was no longer stained from tears. She laid in her coffin in her favorite pale blue floral dress, sleeves covering the gash from her stabbing herself. He remembered her wearing that dress the day he decided he wanted to be with her and they kissed for the first time. He grabbed her cold hand and cried. “I should have listened. I should have helped you. You tried to reach out to me, why didn’t I help you?”

Isabelle could not bear to go to her best friend’s funeral. Instead, she locked herself in her room and cried for days. Her family and friends tried to force her out, but nothing. She wallowed in her own guilt. “I’m sorry, Melanie. I should have listened when you told me you weren’t okay.”

The person that shocked everyone the most was Melanie’s father, Jonathan Valentine. No one, not even Melanie’s mother, had seen his face since months after Melanie was born. He flaked on them, forcing the mother to return to Lexi’s father’s abuse. 

At the wake, a strange man arrived in all black and a hat. At first, everyone whispered and questioned who he was. 

Until the mother said, “Jon?”

Jonathan took off his hat, causing everyone to gasp. Jonathan ignored them all and instead got on his knees near the casket. Despite barely knowing his daughter, tears streamed down his face and he kissed her cold cheek.

“Melanie.” He pushed out through his sobbing. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better. You were such a beautiful young woman and you did not deserve to go like this. You did not deserve to believe that no one loves or cared about you. Not a day went by where I didn’t desire to meet you and be there for you. Daddy loves you very much, sweetheart. And I am here now.”

A figure arose from the casket at that moment. The figure was not visible to anyone yet it was huge and stood over everyone in the room. The figure had long blonde hair with the bangs down to the nose, red lips curled into a frown, and pale skin. The figure had on a pale pink dress with red stains. 

Though not audible, the figure uttered a few words before it disappeared:

“Where were you all when I was alive?”

  

Happiness

Sometimes I wonder if happiness exists. 

Or it’s all just an illusion to guise the fact that life is truly painful. 

The agony and despair some face on a daily basis makes you question if this life is worth living.

A life where I can no longer sleep at night because my mind is clouded with negativity. 

A life where I can barely go a day without tears in my eyes.

A life where I crave loneliness because it’s better than facing the cruelty people bring. 

A life where I can barely feel as though I am worth something no matter how hard I try to get myself to believe otherwise. People can tell me how beautiful and amazing they believe I am; I am still finding it harder to believe with every experience I face. 

A life where I can barely push myself through the day because it takes all my energy to even push myself out of bed into a world of depression and disappointment. 

A life where I have been hurt and tormented so much I am numb. 

A life where I have went over the limits of my strength and now am nothing but vulnerable and easily broken.

A life where I have so many mental scars I can no longer trust someone no matter how genuine they are. 

A life where I feel I can not reach out to anyone, not even my closest of friends out of fear of bothering or  them misunderstanding. 

A life where I am used, betrayed, bullied, and walked all over then left questioning if I deserve it.

A life where no one understands the impact of their words and treatment toward someone. 

A life where I am too delicate to handle this poor treatment. 

A life where no amount of pills or therapy will help. 

A life where I cannot express any of this out of fear of being deemed as crazy or crying for attention. 

A life where I no longer remember what happiness feels like or if I ever felt it at all. 

Or as an ex of mine once so delightfully said, 

“No one wants a depressed, insecure girl who whines all the time.”

I have came to the conclusion that some of us just aren’t meant to be happy. I ponder at times if I am one of those people. 

Still Untitled Short Story

Untitled Short Story (Incomplete)

By Lisa Marie Lupo

One thing people don’t realize; you don’t wake up one morning and decide you’re going to take a human life.
At least that’s their take on it. It does not yet have the qualities of a human being. It can’t speak, see, or move yet. Hell, it can’t even breathe yet. In the eyes of some, however, it is nothing less than a human being.
Do I disagree? Of course not.
That’s why on that cold Saturday morning, about ten years ago, I recall the knots in my stomach. I did not march into that clinic with a mischievous smile and scream, “rip this thing out of me now! Let’s get it over with.” I instead felt increased pains in my chest, nausea pushing up the dinner I had to force myself to eat last night, and the little sleep I received weighing down my body. Looking down, I rubbed at my belly, which had begun to slightly poke out. Anyone I asked had swore to me the increase in my belly size was all in my head. I, on the other hand, saw my once flat tummy beginning to round due to three months of growing going on inside there. Whenever I showered, I would step out, stand sideways in front of the full-body mirror on the door, and look at how much my belly had grew. Most days, there would be no notable changes. On some days, however, a significant growth in my stomach size would occur. On those days, I would ponder how one’s stomach could pop out despite puking so much and eating so little. I would then imagine waking up the next day with my belly so swelled up I could not see anything in front of me besides my mountain-shaped stomach. As this horrid fantasy played in my head, the reflection of my stomach in the mirror multiplied in size about eight times. I would then hold my belly and feel my body shake with anxiety at the mere thought of my body, the body I was already insecure about, being too heavy to carry my own weight anymore. I would then close my eyes and shake my head, removing the ridiculous paranoia that my stomach could transform from “food belly” to “balloon” that fast.
It’s all in your head. I remind myself.
This is the exact reminder I told myself the night before it happened when a sudden fullness has crept into my abdomen area like a plague.

“Delia!” I heard Sonia, my then-best friend yell.
I was leaned across my desk. My head was buried in my arms as I felt my stomach churning. I let out a muffled, “yes?” Despite how heavy my head felt, I managed to lift it up.
Sonia walked into my room, her hand covering her stomach. ” Ugh, these cramps are killing me. Where did you put those tampons I bought you? Oh my God, Delia, you look like shit!”
“Thanks. I said sarcastically in response to Sonia’s bluntness. “Check under the cabinet in the bathroom sink. I’d be cautious if I were you though. I just puked in there.”
“Again? You puked yesterday too.”
I shrugged. “I dunno, stomach virus?”
Sonia stuck up her nose. “You couldn’t at least tell me first? I have a big date with-” I do not remember the rest of Sonia’s rant. At this point I learned to tune out Sonia and her self-absorbed ranting and scorns toward me.
After Sonia chastised me for nearly three minutes, I finally interrupted her. “Well shit, excuse me for not planning all this vomiting!”
Sonia clenched her fists and stomped away. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well she was just being melodramatic because I had interrupted her. Sonia was still getting used to the me who spoke back to her instead of passively taking her bull.
Sonia came back to my room quicker than usual. “Uh, Delia?”
“Yeah?”
“Why is that pack of tampons I bought you last month unopened? I thought you needed them.”
I shrugged. “I thought I was supposed to get my period that time I asked you. I never did.”
Sonia raised her eyebrow. “How often do you miss it?”
I paused. I had never really thought about it, but I had never been over a week late before. “I don’t ever recall missing it, actually.”
“And how many weeks has it been since your missed period?”
“Uh, three.”
This interrogation might have seemed peculiar, yet it was not for me and Sonia. I grew up with only a father, hence me being the only one in my household to use tampons, and had no female figures in my life. I suppose that’s why I tolerated Sonia; she was the closest thing to a mother I had. Sonia was far from caring and nurturing, but since my mothers life came to an end as mine began I never had an idea of what a mother should be like.
“Uh, I’m no doctor, but missed periods? Nausea? Morning sickness?”
“I’m not pregnant!” I yelled.
“Hey it’s just a suggestion. When was the last time you and Samuel did it?”
“I don’t remember. Two months ago, maybe? What does it matter? There’s no way in hell I’m pregnant.” I responded defensively. I put on the act to Sonia that I was annoyed, but truth was I had already considered the possibility that I may be pregnant. Still, I denied that possibility and hoped refusing to speak of it would make it go away.
“Did something happen the last time you did it? Like did the condom break or fall off?”
I looked down. “We didn’t use a condom.”
“Delia!”
“I used the pill! Well maybe I missed a few days but-”
“Oh my god, you’re pregnant!”
“Sonia!”
“How could you be so…” Sonia slapped her forehead. “Did I not say use a condom?”
“We tried! But it’s so uncomfortable and dissatisfying.”
So comfort and pleasure is worth putting yourself at risk? Delia, I can’t believe you’d be so irresponsible.”
“Irresponsible? I don’t even know if I actually am pregnant.”
“Stop being so naive! That’s what got you in this mess in the first place.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“If you had not been so desperate to have sex while still ignorant on the subject, maybe you would not have let Samuel fuck you unprotected in the first place. I knew letting you give it up to him was a mistake, but I guess if you were actually full of more self-respect you would have been able to think for yourself. It’s a shame I have to be the one to make your choices, especially since I still associated myself with you and held my judgements when you just tossed away your virginity like it was nothing. I guess this is your karma for spreading your legs with a guy who did not give a rat’s ass about you and fucking him raw. Well, good luck Delia. I’ll be there for you, even if associating myself with a pregnant eighteen year old will be even more embarrassing than associating myself with a slutty nonvirgin.”
Those words, even thinking back to it now, managed to leave me feeling as though I had been slapped in the face. Sonia had verbally abused me multiple times; when I became shitface drunk for the first time at a party when I was thirteen, for becoming a half virgin with my ex-boyfriend at the age of sixteen, for giving into my sexual urges with a guy I wasn’t even “official” with, and so on. I convinced myself it was out of Sonia’s genuine care for me, even through the tears and agony. Sonia was the only person who cared for me, I swore as I soaked up my pillow alone that night and pounded my mattress with my fist, so if she thought I was naive, irresponsible and shameful, it must be true. I carried that mindset with me when when I attempted to sleep that night. I carried it with me when I excused myself at work the next day to punch a wall in the staff bathroom. I carried it through every doubt, every situation, and every suicidal tendency I had the over the next few months.

The smell of bacon filled the air as I made my way through the kitchen. My stomach was still churning from food I consumed the past few days as it continued to fight its way through my stomach to my mouth. Despite my nerves and last day of morning sickness, the aroma of bacon was able to seduce me into hunger. For a moment I thought of just giving into my new-found hunger until I remembered that midnight was the cutoff period for me being allowed to eat.
Damn you, sacrifices. I thought, frowning as I began to leave the kitchen.
“Hey there, Delia.” I hear my father say.
“Good morning dad.” I say, turning back around.
My dad walked into the kitchen and began to remove bacon from the grill. “You want some bacon? I’m gonna make some pancakes too, if you like.”
I can’t eat. I thought. “No thanks. Not hungry.”
My dad frowned. “Are you sure? You look tired. I’ll make you some coffee if you like.”
I can’t drink coffee. Well maybe after today I can. “No thanks, dad. I’m okay, I promise.”
“Good.” My dad simply responds. “You really need some sleep though.”
“Just busy.” I respond.
My dad grabs the box of frozen ready-made pancakes from the freezer. “Aren’t we all.”
The conversation went no further than that, yet it was one of my father’s rare attempts to display some sort of affection toward me. Aside from the occasional “Are you okay?” and offering to do something for me, my father was distant. I didn’t blame him; I was a mere reminder of the love of his life that was deceased because of me.
Still, it would have been nice to have a parental figure to say more than a few sentences a day to me and actually wonder what is going on in my life. I felt dissatisfied with my home life for the same reason as Allison from The Breakfast Club, I was ignored. I envied fathers who spoiled their daughters and humiliated them by being overprotective. I felt pathetic hating that my dad was unaware of my situation not because he would be enraged and kill the douchebag that impregnated me, but because he would not care if he knew.
I walked back to my room and checked my phone. There was two unread messages for me. One was from Samuel saying, “three hours left.” I sighed. Great to know his narcissistic nature came out enough for him to have a countdown to the time when this responsibility was finally off his shoulders.
The second text was from Sonia and said, “Plz call me back when possible.”
I looked up. Sonia had not spoken to me since the day she went off on me.

Teen pregnancy is one of those things that you hear happen to other people but never imagine would happen to you or anyone you know. It’s something you see in Lifetime movies or hear of happening to complete strangers in other places, but when you hear a girl in your school got knocked up it’s almost like a myth. It never helped that I managed to survive through high school a virgin and the only sex ed I received taught us only of abstinence. There was no talk of contraceptives, just don’t have sex or you will get pregnant and die. That did not stop any one I went to high school with from having sex and it certainly did not help our ignorance beliefs on pregnancy.
It certainly did not help when a girl in my grade got pregnant in tenth grade.
One day when I was sitting in the cafeteria with two of my old high school friends, Ashley and Danielle, Sonia came up to us. “Wow, you’ll never believe what I just heard.”
Before I continue with this story, I should add that the girl mentioned in this story had a name, but I can not remember it to this day. This girl had no significance to me, or to anyone in our group for that matter, yet when she became pregnant by one of Danielle’s ex-boyfriends, she suddenly became the butt of our jokes. This girl was timid and never got herself into any drama with anyone prior to the pregnancy, so it was a shock that anyone knew her enough to get her pregnant. Once she became pregnant, however, it was hard for her to maintain her loner status again. Everyone spoke about her, judged her, and spread rumors about her. It did not matter that none of us really knew her, we just knew that she was dumb enough to get herself pregnant at fifteen. She did eventually transfer a few months later, and soon enough everyone stopped speaking of her to a point where she became nameless. During our senior year she was occasionally brought up as The Girl Who Got Pregnant, but that was all.
Anyway, once Sonia caught our attention, she told us that the girl had gotten pregnant.
“Oh, yeah.” I responded. “She’s in my history class. I heard these two girls interrogating her about it.”
“Who?” asked Ashley.
“That girl. The one who sat in the corner in our English class last year?” I responded.
“Oh that freak that looks like Tai from Clueless at the beginning?”
“Yeah I remember her.” Said Danielle. “There’s no way she is pregnant. She doesn’t even speak to anyone.”
“Apparently, she speaks to Craig. He’s the baby daddy.” Added Sonia.
Our jaws immediately dropped and we all looked at Danielle. “No way, Craig would never sleep with that loser. He may be a horndog but he would never downgrade like that.”
“Actually, he would. I heard since you and Craig broke up he’s been satisfying himself with that outcast.”
Ashley put her hand on Danielle’s. “If it makes you feel any better I bet he’s using her.”
I decided to chime in with my own little piece of gossip. “Plus, she’s getting an abortion.”
Sonia, a strong defender of Pro-life, responded, “Oh hell no, bad enough an invisible bitch gets herself knocked up by Dani’s ex-man, she wants to murder it too?”
Ashley, who was always one for dark humor, snickered. “If the girl is who I think you’re talking about, I’d want to kill it to.”
“Speak of the devil.” I said, pointing at the girl who was walking by with a tray in her hand.
We all turned toward the girl. Sonia screamed out, “Oh look, it’s the baby killer.” As Sonia said this, everyone looked and the girl stopped. “Oh, so you respond to that? Guess you’re owning up to the fact that you can fuck my girl’s man but you can’t handle the consequences.”
The girls face was flushed. “He’s not her man.”
Danielle got up. “Excuse me? Look, little miss nobody, I had Craig first. Everyone knew we were together. Nobody even knew who you were, that shows you Craig was ashamed of you and only wanted you to get what he couldn’t get from me.”
The girl had tears in her eyes, but she would not back down. “What Craig did was not my fault. I did not force him to sleep with me and I did not ask to get pregnant.”
I responded with what I did not realize at the time was an ignorant response. “Because using a condom is so difficult.”
“Right? So many contraceptives available and you’re too stupid to use any of them?” Added Sonia.
“Accidents happen.” The girl said.
Danielle moved closer as though she was ready to hit her. “Yeah, and you’re one of them.”
Everyone was observing, yet no one stepped in to defend the girl. The only time I recall was someone yelling out, “Don’t hit her, she’s pregnant!”
“Yeah, don’t kill two birds with one stone.” Yelled out Ashley.
“Nah,” said Sonia, “she’d like that.”
Danielle never hit the girl. The rest of our torturing the girl went on just like that; Sonia and Danielle humiliating her while Ashley shouted out occasional disturbing comments and I would join in when I forgot that I had not said anything in a while. The truth was, I was ignorant on the subject of teen pregnancy yet a part of me was telling me even then that it was not the girls fault and she had the right to choose what she wanted. I cringed at some of the things all of my friends had said to her and slightly pitied her as she stood there vulnerably as a target to all my friends taunts and rage while the whole cafeteria watched. She finally ran away from Danielle, but that didn’t stop my friends from continuing to taunt her or people making inconsiderate comments toward her at every chance they got. I was too caught up in not being humiliated to defend her, yet I still felt sympathy for the girl.
And when I saw that big positive sign on my Clearblue home pregnancy test nearly three years later, I was put in that girl’s shoes.

I sighed in anticipation as the phone rang. Why was I even calling Sonia? She did not even have the nerve to make sure I was okay or apologize for all the hurtful things she said, so why did she suddenly want to talk now?
Sonia finally answered. “Hello?”
“Hi.” I said quietly.
“Delia, hey! It’s been a while.” She said this in a friendly tone I had sensed was artificial.
“Since you verbally abused me?”
“Hey, I was just giving you some tough love.” Sonia snickered. “So, ready for murder?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was talking to Samuel last night…”
“Samuel?” Sonia, who had sensed that Samuel was an asshole long before I did, avoided meeting and talking to him at all costs.
“You know, the guy who you cried over multiple nights and totally played you? The guy who is the father of the baby you want to kill?”
Oh crap. “He told you?”
“You know, Delia, I almost thought of apologizing to you since I considered you my best friend friend, but now I’m glad I didn’t. You didn’t deserve an apology after getting yourself pregnant and you don’t deserve one now that you want to kill an innocent child.”
“You don’t understand, you think I want this?”
“Obviously you do if you’re going to go along with it! Don’t even tell me that he forced you into this because you have every right to say no. I know you are incapable of thinking for yourself but there is no way you can really be weak enough to believe that someone can force you into killing a child.” I opened my mouth to speak but Sonia kept on going. “Is this about Samuel? Do you think that getting an abortion will please him? Do you think that if you got it he would like you? Let me tell you something, Samuel never liked you. I tried to warn you so many times he was just using you for sex but you didn’t listen, and now here you are. He didn’t like you enough to date you no matter how many times you gave it to him and he won’t like you just because you do what he wants. He may promise to be there for you but in reality he’s just promising anything he can to manipulate you into killing the baby then leave you again, just like he got you to have sex with him then left you. He doesn’t care what you want, he just wants to have one less responsibility to worry about.”
While Sonia was right about Samuel’s intentions, she was wrong about me doing this to please Samuel. I had thought long and hard about this, even through Samuel’s pleading. “I want nothing to do with Samuel. If it were not for this pregnancy, he would be dead to me.”
“Oh, so what’s your reason then? You can’t handle it? So now when you face a consequence for a mistake you made you’re going to kill someone to solve it?”
“It’s not like that. The fetus isn’t even alive yet.”
“You did not just say that.” Sonia sounded genuinely furious now. I could not understand why at the time, for the baby was mine to carry and not hers. “It is still a living thing, Delia, and you are denying it a chance at life. You don’t even have to take care of it, there are many adoption agencies…”
“I’ll still have to carry it!”
“So what! This is a baby you’re carrying not a rock. You can deal with it.”
“It’s easy for you to say, you never got pregnant before.”
“If I was irresponsible enough to get myself pregnant, I would own up to it.”
I felt tears in my eyes. I already had a hard enough time believing that Sonia would really say all the hurtful things she had said to me a few weeks ago, was she really going to put her ignorant beliefs before me? “You don’t know that. It might different if you were actually put in that situation. Remember that girl that we made fun of in tenth grade for getting pregnant?”
“You mean Bella?” Oh right, that was her name, Bella. “I remember when we all made fun of her you hardly spoke. I should have sensed that you were a supporter of abortion then. You know what, I called you hoping I’d get through to you but clearly I can’t. You’re too selfish to listen to me so all I can do now is hope that karma gets you good for what you’re about to do. You may think it’ll be all over after you do it, but it won’t. All that throwing up and nights losing sleep will seem like nothing for all the pain you’re about to endure, and I am so happy I won’t have to be a part of it. I could lie and say I’ll be there for you when the abortion is over and your head is finally out of your ass and you finally feel remorse for your actions, and I know you will, but I won’t. I refuse to associate myself with a baby killer.”
Sonia hung up before I could defend myself, and I was left there in shock before the tears finally came out.

The first day I knew I was pregnant, I felt myself detached from reality. I went to work, but I felt as though I was only physically there. I worked as a cashier in a supermarket during that time, so working seemed like more of a routine. I just bagged, put in prices, and gave customers artificial smiles. That day, the smiles were twice as forced as usual. Though I knew the customers were far too invested in their own lives to care whether or not I was genuinely happy, I somehow felt that my smile and stomach had become transparent and they could read all my problems.
As my lunch break approached, I overheard two of my coworkers having a conversation.
“Ugh, Marsha I’m so beat. I was up until 4am last night working on this paper for my Sociology class and I have another one due tomorrow morning.”
“At least your shift ends early today. I volunteered to work until closing before I realized how much Pre-Calc homework I have.”
I did not engage in this conversation simply because I did not have to deal with the struggle of being a college student. This was not by choice, but rather because I could not afford college. I attended a community college for half a semester before having to drop out due to anxiety and stress becoming too much for me. The fact that I struggled financially did not help. My father did his best to pay for my expenses but it became too much since the money he made working alone was not enough. Financial aid money did little to help as well. My advisors did everything they could to make me stay, offering student loans that I had far too much pride to take out. They failed to understand just how severe my anxiety was, even with me telling them of the panic attacks I had trying to get in all my papers on time. I suppose it was my own fault for taking six classes in one semester, but either way just a half of a semester was brutal enough to get me to drop out. Though my dad was nonchalant about me giving up on college so soon, I was disappointed enough to push myself to work full time. It was a way to both kill time and make money until I figured out what I wanted in life.
As my two coworkers had this conversation, I could not help but think of how I dropped out of school due to lack of money and how much my father struggled as a single parent even with just one kid. How would I be able to support a child?
I sighed. I did not want to do it, but I had to tell Samuel.
When my lunch break came, I decided I’d go in the staff bathroom for privacy and call Samuel. I did not want to waste my break speaking to him, especially since I swore I was done with him for good, but I had to talk to him some time and I was not hungry anyway.
As I locked myself in the bathroom and pulled up Samuel’s name in my contacts, I paused to think for a moment. Samuel did not care enough to do more than have sex with me and did not hesitate to let me go, so would he even care to be there for me? Something had told me that he would find the easy way out of this and I would be forced to face the consequences on my own.
At that time, however, I was desperate to get the news out. My father would not care and I feared that my friends might judge me as Sonia did, and it only seemed fair that he knew since it affected him too.
I called Samuel, and he said a confused, “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me, Delia.”
“Oh, I know, I still have your number. I’m just curious as to why you’re calling me? I mean, you did say you never wanted to speak to me again.”
“I know, but…” I paused. I just realized I had not broken the news to anyone. Even Sonia had just jumped to the conclusion without me having to tell her. I was not sure how to say it, so I had to just push the words out. “I’m pregnant.”
“What? No way I mean weren’t you on the pill?”
“I forgot a few days.” I said. “I don’t think I took it the day we last did anything I thought it wouldn’t make a difference.”
He paused for a moment. “Well I mean I didn’t…you know.”
“It doesn’t matter. Something could have got inside.”
“That’s impossible.”
I rolled my eyes. “No it isn’t, Samuel. Accidents happen.”
Samuel let out a deep breath. “Have you taken any tests yet?”
“I took a home test, and I’ll make an appointment with my doctor later. I have also missed my period and been throwing up like crazy but I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”
“Wow…okay. Uh, Well have you decided what you want to do yet?”
“No, I’m still in denial this is even happening.”
“Me too…” There was a long pause after this. “I just can’t believe it, like how could this happen to me?”
“You mean us.”
“Right. I just…this is too much to take in right now.”
“I know.” The words that followed after sound pathetic when I look back at it now, yet it just poured out as I still had something for Samuel at the time. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For getting us in this mess. I should have thought before doing. I should have remembered to take my pills or made us use a condom. This is all my fault and now our lives are ruined.”
“Don’t speak like that.” said Samuel. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine, I fucked up. But we can fix it.”
“How could you be so positive?”
“Because there is a solution.”
“What would that be?” There was another pause. “Samuel?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I know you may not like what I’m about to say, but abortion.” I was too stunned to speak, so he continued. “I know how you feel about it, but it’s way better than having a child. I mean maybe one day I want kids, but not right now. I have way too much on my plate-”
“So do I.”
“Of course. I mean we both do, and adding a kid onto that would just make things even more difficult than they already are. I won’t be as bad as you think it will, I promise.”
“It’s easy for you to say that because it’s not your body that will be cut open.”
“I’m just being real here. Think about it, Delia. We both work but we don’t have enough to support a kid, our lives are stressful as it is, and your dream to go back to school will have to be put on hold even longer. Hell, who knows if you’ll ever be able to if you decide to have a kid. I know abortion sounds scary, but compared to carrying around a child and having to take care of it for years, I think it’s the better option here.”
“What about adoption?”
“Do you really want some strangers raising your kid?”
Of course not. Sure there were some nice adoptive parents out there, but I was not sure I can trust people who I did not know personally taking in my child possibly for life. This was not Juno where a nice, loving and caring parent could easily be found in twenty minutes. “No.”
“Exactly. Look, I have to get back to work, but please think about this?”
“Okay.” I hung up without saying bye. He did bring up some good points, but I still was unsure I really wanted an abortion. It’s easy for him to say all that, I thought, he doesn’t have to go through the trauma getting a fetus removed from him. He could just manipulate me into abortion until I did it and then have the burden off his shoulders and move along with his life. Between my anxiety, my mental state, and my morals, I was not sure I would be able to handle the guilt.
The more I thought about it, the more tears began to push out of my eyes. The knots in my stomach increased and my fists clenched until I used them to punch the wall.
Not even a day since I had found out, and yet it already was too much.

Cleaning Out My Closet 

Well I felt the need to post this because it’s an experience I’ve been wanting to share. I shared an experience through a blog involving this same guy back in April, but this is viewing my experience with him in both a different light and with a new moral. Months have passed, I no longer have any contact with him other than having two or three of his friends on social media, and I have had time to cool off about the whole situation.

I’ve cooled off enough to accept my faults in it, to forgive him for my own sake, and to say everything I am about to say.

We all have that one person or thing that changes us for the rest of our lives. We may experience other things that affect us, but nothing will ever affect us quite like that one person/thing. It will cause us immense pain before finally teaching us a valuable lesson that will cause us to mature.
I believe I had that experience already.
He was in my life for a brief time, yet he affected my life in many ways. Now I know for a fact that I am not, and probably never will be, that important to him. I may no longer speak to him but there’s no doubt he never thinks of me, speaks of me, or considers me as an important part of his life. I would not be considered worth his time enough to write a blog post at 4am on a summer night about me. I am probably just another notch in his bedpost.
Knowing this, why bother writing this? Am I hoping he will see this and come back to me? Is this a way to get revenge on him? Do I hope he feels at least a little remorse?
My answer? None of those. I have no desire to get back at him for all the emotional pain he caused me nor do I want him back in my life again. I just want to share my experience in hopes that it will prevent people from making the same mistakes I did. I would also like to make a certain cause aware that many people are blind to.
I met him in Summer of 2014. I was 18, he was 25. Already, the conflict becomes clear. I, however, always thought of age as a number. Boy, was I right about that in a different way. One moral that we can already pull from this story before it even begins; older does not mean wiser. You could be 25, 47, or even 68, and still be very immature to a point where there are teenagers that have more brain than you. Your actions and lifestyle determine your maturity, not a number.
Anyway, I met him a little over a year ago through a mutual friend on Facebook. I liked a friend of his at the time, but he seemed to be interested in me from the moment we became friends on Facebook. Now, during this time I was in a vulnerable state. I was recently assaulted by a professor and suffering from extreme depression. He knew all this before we got into anything. Still, he made advantages toward me and told me what I wanted to hear. He would constantly compliment me and give me advice to feel good about myself whenever I was down. I began to confide in him more than my friends because he always seemed to know what to say. He also swore he liked me and even that he wanted to be with me at some point. Time passes, I ended up liking him back. I fell for everything he said simply because he told me things I wanted to hear from a guy then. I did not care or find it strange that this guy who had never met me in person and knew me for a very short time already spoke of dating me. He even went as far as joking that he was better than his best friend that I had a crush on. I just lacked so much self-respect at that time that I allowed him to manipulate me and was naive enough to believe he meant it.
Just like me being so naive and me having a bad self-esteem caused me to allow him to take me for granted in hopes that he would like me.
That’s right. I became one of those girls who give themselves willingly to a guy in hopes of him liking them.
For many weeks throughout last fall, I continued to allow myself to be used by this older guy who I liked a lot but had no intentions of dating me. Now this creates the argument of whether or not he used me, which I am sure he will forever say he did not, and it creates the argument of the fact that I had the ability of making my own choices.
I’ll make this clear: I accept the fact that I messed up too. You know what? I’ve accepted that since whatever happened between me and him ended. I will never say he was the only one wrong. I will accept that I should not have messed with him in the first place when everyone warned me to stay away from him. I will accept that I should not have slept with someone and expected him to date me after. I will accept that I should have known he was not looking for anything serious when he said he just wanted a friends with benefits (from anyone in general) before we even got involved.
I accept all that.
But, it takes two to screw up, and my faults here are not as extreme as his.
In addition to manipulating a young girl, he was also aware of me and how I am. He knew that I had a low self-esteem. He knew that I had been assaulted earlier that year. He knew that I was inexperienced. He knew that I liked him a lot and was expecting more, which he had somewhat promised.
Knowing what he was dealing with, he should have stopped it. Sure, I had the choice to. Yet there is one thing that is forgotten here. I did not know better. I repeat, I did not know better. He can go ahead and argue that, as he said so sweetly to me, ‘He was not aware I was not capable of making my own choices,’ yet he does not realize that it has little to do with my ability to make choices. It’s that there were plenty of things about me I made clear to him that he chose to ignore. So while I made the mistake in choosing to ignore that he was not looking for anything serious when we got involved, he chose to not take quite a few things into consideration:
He chose to ignore that due to my self-esteem, I would fall for anything he said. Oh wait, he did not ignore this. He used it to his advantage.
He chose to not put things to a stop when he saw I was catching feelings. I made this obvious, and even spelled it out for him. When I even finally went off on him for things not going as he promised, making it clear to him that I was not comfortable with us not going anywhere other than friends with benefits, he still kept it going instead of deciding to be honest with me or putting it to a stop.
He seems to have ‘forgotten’ everything he said before I gave him what he wanted. He also seemed to make things up as I began to accuse him of using me. He ‘forgot’ that he did say he was interested and that it might go somewhere. He ‘forgot’ that he never said no to us doing anything. He ‘forgot’ that he slickly started it all by doing things I was not comfortable with before I gave in. He claims he asked me if it was okay if we never dated, when he did not. What he did do? Drag along the idea of us dating in the future until he had got what he wanted from me for a while, then claim that he has decided that he is not interested in dating me. Even after, he continued to do it and claimed that it was my fault because he was not a, in his words, a ‘mind controlling mind controller’ (because he has such a way with words) unable to grasp the idea that I may just have strong feelings for him that I could not help. Even if he did so-called like me and did not feel as strongly about me as I did him, a person who truly liked you would stop this because they care about you too much to hurt you, correct? I was too naive at the time and believed he genuinely liked me.
He chose to have me travel to his house in Brooklyn when I live far from there alone at nighttime when it was dangerous on the subway. Oh sure he took me home, very few times. His justifying for this was that he was not allowed to take me home because I lived too far. A 25 year old man could not take a young girl who lives nearly two hours away home once a week but could go to parties until 4am.
Other awful things he did to me that I admit should have been red flags of him was never introduce me to his friends and never went out his way to find something we could do outside of being in the house. He also never once would offer to spend money on me at least for food when we were out the first few times. Oh, but he liked me from the start right?
None of those things, however, can beat the overall heartache I experienced from this situation. All I did was fall for him, and I never asked to. You can’t make someone fall for you, but when you are dealing with a naive girl with low self-esteem you should know better than to try and pursue her just to get what you want and leave. I did nothing to him. I gave him more chances than he deserves because I caught feelings beyond my control. I took a lot of pain and still managed to be nice to him because I believe he was worth it. I travelled to another part of New York City to see him. I did not lash out on him. (I eventually did but this was months later after things between us were over) I tried to reason with him even when he said rude, insensitive things that made me cry such as, ‘I certainly don’t want a girl who gets mad over little things’. He made rude comments too when we got ourselves into that messed up situation, being inconsiderate to the fact that I was facing consequences more than him and him still being a little brat about it all because I did not do what he wanted. I needed his support, yet he would say things like ‘if you want to complain about it then you can go through it alone’ and stating that it was my decision to go through with it and therefore I deserved to deal with it alone and he did not have to deal with it. He was always a big gamer and I wasn’t, so I dealt with him making me not feel good enough just because he wanted a girl who loved gaming as much as him. I dealt with his insensitive sense of humor and jokes that made me cringe. I dealt with him hardly acknowledging my existence at his house most of the time to a point where I enjoyed talking to his friend who lived with him more than I enjoyed talking to him. He would use the excuse of him being bad at conversation, yet I am introverted as well and I would never have done that to him. I also waited for him for months, all because I genuinely liked him and was naive enough to believe that he would feel the same way. In addition to him suddenly losing interest in me after I gave him what he wanted, he also used the excuse that he was not ready for a relationship. What does he go and do not too long after this? He gets involved with another girl. This relationship also began during the time we were in that mess of a situation, confirming it meant nothing to him. Imagine being put through all this by a guy you liked a lot just for him to use you but give some other girl a chance. For a long while, I felt like I was not good enough and that is why he gave her a chance but just got what he wanted from me and then kicked me to the curb. I found it interesting too considering his perspective on dating involved him saying ‘people could have sex and date, and the dating still means nothing.’ Oh, and he got this girl to attempt to talk me into doing what he wanted in our situation. That made me finding out they were together a hell of a lot harder.
Point is, though, I liked him. He was the first guy I liked and trusted since an ex-boyfriend of mine from years ago. I had not fallen for someone as I did with him in such a long time. To have him treat me that way knowing how much I went through and knowing how I felt about him made me so furious and hurt that I lost it at times and even questioned my own self-worth. I felt like I hated him, but deep down I knew I still liked him a lot even after all that and that hurt even more. For the first time in a long time, my heart was broken. He managed to break my heart in a different way, however. It was so broken I felt nothing but agony and anger. Any other guy who hurt me gave me closure and came to their senses and apologized to me, then proved they were sorry. He did not.
And I don’t think he ever will.
So here I will say something shocking: I don’t hate him. And though I said the complete opposite to him out of rage months ago, I don’t regret what we did and I am glad I met him.
I know it sounds crazy, but what he did to me and put me through taught me valuable lessons. Because of him, I was able to accept that there are fucked up people in this world that will never see what they did to you. As opposed to getting revenge or attempting to force them to see their faults, you have to just let it go and let karma get them. He taught me that as opposed to giving guys chances when they hurt me to an extreme, I should just let them go for my own sake as opposed to trying to change them. He rid me of my naive mindset and allowed me to open up my eyes to the reality of the world. He put me in a situation that, though the outcome was tragic, allowed me to mature as a person. His using me taught me not to give myself fully to a guy in hopes that he will like me and not to fall so easy. I was able to learn to accept that I can’t get everyone on my side even if I am right here.
So I thank him. Without him, I would have still been the naive girl I was a year ago. And I would not have learned that you need to get hurt sometimes or make mistakes on your own in order to learn a valuable lesson. The guy I once regarded as a waste of my time is now the one who will always serve as the person that changed my life. He’ll never know it, and that is okay. I still do not wish to have anything to do with him, I just view our past situation in much more positive light.
I am also writing this as a way to raise awareness to guys like him who took advantage of young girls with low self-esteem. It happens a lot more often than people think, and very often it comes off like the girls fault when in reality someone cannot help that they lack self-confidence, and it is not their fault that the guy manipulates them. It is not as extreme as rape, but it has the same concept as to the guy using the girls vulnerability to his advantage. (and yes, though I say girls I know it can happen to guys too, so guys in this situation can always replace ‘girl’ with ‘guy’) But anyway, it is time to put attention to men who are so desperate for sex that they are willing to manipulate a young girl with low self-esteem and emotionally damage her, then make it look like it is her fault. And I hope my story will somewhat help that cause.
I am much stronger now thanks to this experience. And I would hope the same for anyone who has faced this as well.
So thank you.