You might have noticed that I often have a front up. A facade. Like how I always wear lipstick. It’s not like I’m a fake person. I try to be honest and truthful. It’s just that I’m so scared, whatever is under this wall that I’ve built isn’t good enough. I don’t say ‘whatever’ to be mysterious or alluring. It’s because even I’m not to sure who I really am underneath and I’m not sure if I really want to know. I don’t like the person I am when I drop the confident, brash, outgoing persona, I don’t like the glimpses I see when I’m near you. I think that’s why I hated you so much.
Truthfully I think I never really hated you, or what we did.
I hated who I became.
I became weak.
I became Dependent.
I never said what I really wanted to because I was to afraid to say something you didn’t like. I needed your validation for everything. Everything I said, everything I did, I felt like I needed you to agree with it. If a day went by with out you speaking to me I felt worthless yet after you ignoring me for days I would be blinded by you again after just one sentence.
When I started seeing how pathetic, how weak and disgusting I had become is when I hated you. I hated you for months. I hated your lies. Every time I thought about you, every time I saw you, every time is heard your voice, God heard your name. I felt sick and I felt uncontrollably angry for no real reason. It was like I decided you had controlled it all. I decided that every single word you said to me you had planed meticulously, every thing I thought I’d felt you manipulated me to feel. My mind drew a picture of you and painted it with horrible, deceiving colours. You were the puppet master and I painted me as your innocent victim.
Of course that was not the truth. You were far from perfect that’s for sure but you weren’t the antagonist I imagined you to be. You didn’t twist me into your mould. I squeezed myself into what I thought you wanted me to become. You didn’t fracture me into a weak mess. I broke my own arms to try and fit, scared that if I didn’t, I would be nothing.
Months latter when I realised this. When I saw that this ridiculous thing wasn’t what you had done to me but what I had done to myself. When I was faced with the fact that this was what was behind my curtain. Behind a well crafted, strong, bold fabric I was a tiny, glass ball, hanging off a string. A string that I gave you a knife to cut. You never tore me into that. That pathetic thing was the real me. I couldn’t blame you. It was me. That was who I was. And I felt guilty. Guilty for blaming you. Guilty for being that.
Then I really fell apart. I couldn’t hate you anymore so I hated myself. I despised what I was. I felt weak and useless. So I put up my front and let it eat at me until I was hollow and hard. I smiled as I punished myself, clawed at my mind and drowned in my self doubt. Then when I couldn’t take it any longer I filled myself with artificial numbness. It wasn’t even like it made me feel good. I just felt light, and numb, and falling asleep was easy for once because I didn’t torture my mind as I lay in the dark, I just drifted away.
No one knows about the habit I got myself into. It enveloped me more and more. I had never realised that I could spiral so desperately out of control. It was my own fault I was there. No one was coming to help me out of it, I had to do it myself. So then and there in my disgusting state I decided to stop. I picked myself up.
I starting putting splints on my arms and washing the pathetic off me. I started feeling like me again. I started feeling confident and powerful. I could hear your name and not feel sick or ashamed. I could talk to you without wanting to punch you or start crying. I felt like I meant something again.But I felt ashamed for hating and blaming you. I’m scared you saw me how I saw myself. Even now I feel uncomfortable around you, an overwhelming sense of vulnerability blankets me and everything I say sounds like utter nonsense in my own ears because I feel like you still see me as a scared, weak, vulnerable, dependent, pathetic little girl. But that’s not who I am.
Holding up this front for so long, I’ve become it, and I don’t have regrets about what happened because now I know. I know how to hold myself up higher so I can’t fall. I know how to be powerful and outgoing. I know that I can pick my self up and I know don’t need anyone else to do it for me. I know who I really am underneath now. You once asked why I wore lipstick and I told you it made me feel confident. You said I shouldn’t need it to feel that way. Well with all of this left unsaid and all this time later I still like to wear red lipstick. But thanks to you, I don’t feel like need it anymore.