One year has passed. Last year, on the 15th of April, I thought I was entering a world I'd want to be in forever. A world full of joy and happiness and love, or so it seemed. A world where nothing would matter and the sky would always be blue, the birds would sing and we'd watch the sunset everyday. The world of my dreams, but which shortly turned into a nightmare. It was your world.
It was one or two o'clock, school was over. The weather was cool-ish, just like it is now. The sky was grey. We were heading home.
"I only came to school today for one class.. and to go home with you," you say.
"Well," I stutter, "Thanks."
We hardly ever spoke. I was shy and afraid. You were.. Well, I don't know what you were. You never opened up. I never opened up. Soon we arrived in front of my grandma's block. We kissed. We hugged.
"I'm going to miss you," I said. You answered, "Me too."
The kiss was not what I expected. You pressed your lips against mine without opening your mouth. It was short. I did not like the kiss itself, but the feeling it gave me. I thought I was in love. I wasn't. I was just.. blinded by the world, by you.
You were the person who made me feel insecure, scared, self-conscious, worthless, useless, helpless. You were the one who failed to understand and take care of me. You were the one who made me cry. You were the one whose behavior and actions made me stop eating.
You, dearest, are the cause of my cuts (which re-appeared after a 6-month non-cutting period), my scratches, my hair that is falling, my tears, the days I don't eat, the binges, the purges, the money I waste for laxatives, the suicide notes, the poems, all my insecurities, therapy, shivering in the hot sun, exercising until I feel sick, dead.. You are guilty for everything. Thank God you didn't come to know me.
Also, if I hadn't become what I am now, I might have never had the opportunity to be with him, the guy who held my hand through all, who endured all the nights when I screamed at him (even though he wasn't guilty of anything), the one who had to see my cuts, who had to feel my bones each time he hugged me, the one who found my laxatives, who threw away a blade of mine, who heard me crying and saying "I want to get better, I want this to be over", the one who has been here for almost a year and who I hope will never leave. So yes, thank you for bringing me here, on the darkest path of life.. At least I have someone now who I can be myself with. Because depressed and disordered girls are hotter. [To quote Emilie Autumn, "They're hot! They're nuts! They're suicidal!"]
Who cares that I couldn't listen to a lot of great music (especially Simple Plan) because it reminded me of you? Who cares that I started having nightmares with you? Who cares that, after we broke up, I started scratching my head and pulling my hair each time I mentally saw your face? Who gives a damn fuck? Who cares that, because of you, I threw up last night and will take laxatives in a few hours? I am sure that, if this day had never existed, the chances of me being here would have been dramatically lower. If that kiss never existed, if one of us would have been sick on that day, I would not have been here: eating disordered, having experienced depression, and so, so many more things that I would not list now.
I could write a novel about you, despite that our "relationship" only lasted for three weeks. Three weeks of hell for me. Should I regret? The consequences of those three weeks taught me a lot. I am a whole new person, and I won't say I am better now. No, I am worse, physically and mentally. But you know what? I am glad to be here.
In the end, I'd like to post this song by Emilie Autumn. Pure awesomeness.