sometimes the rejection still stings. the lack of reciprocity. the ignoring and the baiting just to throw me away into the sea, empty and alone. the lies and the secrets. the avoidance. the lack of accountability. the shame. the embarrassment. the weakness.
the words of meshell ndegeocello float into my mind...
a fool of me..."
i play the song and dig up some more pain just to set it free. residual feelings for you have no home here. the wind is where they belong.
because you did. you made a fool of me. again and again and again. and it took so many times for me to learn what was happening, to truly accept where i stood. it took me years to accept that you are not meant for me or more importantly, deserving of me. i saw you much brighter than you truly are. sometimes i'd think, "yes, he is as bright as i see him because i'm seeing his true self that he won't unleash," but part of me thinks that is naive and maybe even egotistical.
no, i do not see you as that light. not anymore. that light was what i merely wanted to see, what i had fabricated in my mind because i knew what i wanted and i wanted it to be you. when the two wouldn't fuse together i made them fuse in my mind and heart. i lied to myself. it feels like a mental illness to look back on, the way someone can fool themselves into believing so much false hope and belief of what they wish someone was and trick themselves into believing someone truly is?
i can't even blame you. not completely. you showed me your true colors from the beginning and i ignored every sign, as did everyone i knew who cosigned my attraction to you. your handsome face and seductive smirk, sexy voice, big brain, intense eyes, and the forever dangling of "perhaps i'd like to be with you," lured me into an aching and unsatisfied bliss.
it hurts to follow your friends on social media. they still follow me. i can't figure out why. they must at least like me. even past lovers of yours and i are connected. i think tonight i have to finally stop. i can't take it anymore. years have passed and all i can recall when i see the friend's faces is the ways that they've seen me humiliated because of you. they're great; you're not. you don't deserve them.
you painted me to be obsessed to make yourself feel as though you weren't responsible for the monster you were creating. to avoid any accountability. i'm not the first one you've done this to and i surely wasn't the last. actual abuse we tend to avoid calling what it is. "abuse" sounds so serious! well, it was serious. it caused me to break out in enormous unexplainable welts. no diet or amount of water or exercise could stop them.
and then you left. and my face cleared and here i am, attempting to heal the scars every day and night. the emotional ones fade easier than the physical, surprisingly enough. and yet, i can't help but look at your friends and instead of fondly remembering good times had i remember the most embarrassing.
that is on you.
i would have drowned if it weren't for myself and those around me who loved me enough to tell me the truth. eyes opening and heart healing. i woke up. took a deep, fresh breath of air. thank god. i relinquished the control i never had.
for that, i thank me.
Creatress-in-Chief of Pussy Magic, Samantha is a published poet, author, and editor from the Bay Area with immense passion for traveling and positively changing the lives of women through holistic healing and honoring our sacred selves: mind, body, and spirit. Find more info and her writing here.