I remember the first time you touched my body.
I was 7 and you were 12 and you told me to meet you in the fort.
I was never allowed in the fort before.
Only the cool kids were allowed in the fort- did this mean I was cool?
We were going to play a game and the rules were simple: be quiet and don’t tell.
We get to be grownups today.
I remember the day that I told you I didn’t want to play grownups anymore.
I was 9 and you were 14 and you told me you didn’t care.
I always liked it before so why was I being mean now?
I never liked it before. I just liked feeling like a big kid.
Now I just have to pretend that nothing is wrong.
Eventually, I couldn’t feel anything except for your love.
I remember the first time I threatened to tell.
I was 10 and you were 15 and you told me that I was going to get into trouble too because I knew it was bad.
It was my fault.
And I knew it was true because there was no one I liked getting in trouble for more than you.
We had to play grownups that day.
I remember the last time I threatened to tell.
I was 11 and you were 16 and you told me to get the fuck out.
You called me a bitch and informed me that this was the closest I’d ever come to being loved.
You told me not to come back and reminded me again that this was my fault.
I shouldn’t have said I wanted to play.
I don’t want to play grownups anymore.
I remember the first time I cried myself to sleep.
It was the first time another boy told me he loved me.
This time, I told him to get the fuck out.
I called him selfish and immature and reminded him that love is not something that exists for people like me.
I am not allowed to be loved.
I do not deserve to be loved because the only love that a broken toy receives is from the dumpster out back.
I asked him not to speak to me again.
After that night, I didn’t let myself feel anything anymore.
I didn’t know why, but I was so scared to play grownups.
I was 18 years old when I really let myself remember what you did to me.
I thought it was just a dream but I allowed myself to go deeper into my thoughts in order to sew the pieces together again;
The fucked-up patchwork quilt that is my idea of love.
Every tear and dropped stitch representing the times that I remembered my worth- and that I was worthless.
Every time I took a sip of the truth, I had to chase it with self-hatred and a shot of Jack.
The rules were simple: drink until you can’t feel and find someone to love you for the night.
I remembered what it felt like to play grown ups again.
I’m 21 years old and still trying to remember how to actually be a grownup.
I know that I have to be worth more than this but I still hear that voice my head reminding me that I deserve this feeling.
That I like this new game.
The rules are simple: stay away from anything that can hurt you because even that is an emotion that you don’t deserve to feel.
So the last part of this letter serves to thank you.
And I know you’re mad now because for the past ten years, you thought you won.
And as much as I want you to have to hear about the things you’ve done to me, I will not send this to you or read this to you because I’ve finally realized that I don’t need your validation.
To be completely honest, I don’t give a fuck what you think of me or my words because you have given me something much greater.
You gave me the ability to love myself for everything I am and everything I am not.
I can move mountains.
So now it’s my turn:
Pack your bags because you’re evicted from the residency that you took up in my head 14 years ago.
So get the fuck out.
If I ever see you again, I hope you are crushed by the height at which I hold my head.
I cannot wait for the day when you realize that all of your efforts failed because I will grow and I will love.
I never meant it when I said I loved you, but I finally mean it when I say I love myself