You say you are better than me. You try to destroy me. You try to take what I have built around me. Why do you hate me? You say you know how I am. It's been 4 years. You don't know me anymore. Your actions sadden me. You have turned from this magnificent, amazing, beautiful young woman into a monstrous, vile, corrupt, destructive ghost. What happened to you?
PART 1 A- Friendship: The beginning
Let me tell ya'll about a certain person. I met a girl way back in 2003. She was dating my sister's best friend (who my sister was also totally in love with). This girl was "gothic". She had dark eyes and a mesmerizing smile. She had long, dark hair. She was the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen. She got engaged and then shortly after, she and the guy split. I guess it was a very bloody breakup.
I looked up and saw her standing in the front of the church receiving prayer from the pastor. When I looked into her eyes I could see the pain and the despair rising with each breath she took. I immediately gave her my number and told her to call if she needed anything. I told her I would always be there for her, no matter what. Days went by and I didn't hear from her. So I called her. We began a friendship.
For a year, we danced around each other. I was always there for her. She would scream at me and tell me she didn't love, she didn't need me and she didn't want me around. My usual reply? "Have you eaten?" I never let her words get to me because I knew that she needed someone - maybe not me, but someone. I remember the day she saw him at Eat N Park. My boyfriend and his best friend had come down and we all hung out - my sister included. She saw him and she became paralyzed. i could feel the change in her energy; I could hear the uneasiness in her breaths. She latched onto my shoulders for support because she couldn't stand. I transferred all of my energy directly into her - at least as much as I could without passing out. I calmed her. I held her.
The year was full of interesting events. Applebee's runs, Tominson Run Park walks, Walmart trips for the hell of it... She quickly became my best friend. We'd go to my room and lay on my bed and listen to mix tapes that I had recorded. When Usher, Shania Twain or J-Lo would play, she would sing and I would laugh because it was horridly yet purposely off-key. Yet when a song played that she loved, I would hear her true voice and it was like angels were in my room. I remember taking her to a psychology debate that one of my favorite professors was heading. She asked me all these serious questions and I was able to show her my true intellectual self. She told me I reminded her of Willow from Buffy the Vampire Slayer - powerful yet completely academically dorky and quirky. I had never seen Buffy, so I had no idea who she was talking about. I'd randomly get outta class early and speed to her high school so I could surprise her and pick her up. She'd always ask me "Does my mom know?" and what she never realized is I had always called her mom and asked permission before I even left the college.
I remember the first time she told me she was developing feelings for me. We were on our way out of Raccoon State Park and we stopped on the side of the road, got out of the car and sat on an old, rugged picnic table. She told me that she always liked girls, but that she thought she was falling in love with me. At this point, she had chopped all of her hair off. She had attempted to dye it blonde and it was more of a reddish-orange than blonde. She wearing light blue jeans and a black and pink fairy shirt. Totally different than what she was when we had originally first met. I told her that I was straight and that I couldn't be gay. Homosexuality was wrong in God's eyes, but that wouldn't mean I'd stop hanging out with her. After the light turned dark, we went to dinner - to none other than the famous Applebees.
We were inseparable. I taught her many things and she taught me many things. We found a place of refuge in each other. We found an incredible friendship. She would hold me when I would cry about my father. She would hold me after I told her I was raped. I told her everything about me - my fears, my desires, my wants...everything. I wanted to go to Australia and attend Hillsong International Leadership College. She told me she couldn't bear to be 4 years without me, so she was coming with. We even created avatars and made a book about going and what we would study, where we would stay and what all we had to do before we went. I was going into Counseling and she was going into Youth Ministry. She told me she always wanted to go to Lee University - which was a huge Christian university in Tennessee (maybe it was Kentucky...one of those states). She said she always felt the desire to help young kids and young teenagers. I saw how she interacted with pre-teens and i thought that was an AMAZING idea and she would be sooooo good at it. However, when I told her I wanted to go to Hillsong, she told me that she would come with me and we could embark on the adventure of a new country together - that way i'd be less scared.
It was a friendship like i never thought i'd ever have. There was something so special about it. She made me feel like I was worth something...like everything that my father ever told me was lie. She made me feel beautiful and alive. I could finally open up and tell a joke. I told her one day I wanted to wear make up, but I didn't know the first thing about it. We went up to my room and she helped me apply my first eyeliner (that i did willingly), eyeshadow and mascara. When it all was done, she took a step back and gently exhaled and said "breath-taking". I probably blushed like a school girl - but then again, I kinda was one. I began wearing dresses, skirts, girly tops and different shoes. I felt like a butterfly.
Every time my father would threaten my mother or he would call me or make an ass of himself - she was always there. She was never selfish. She was totally worried about me, my sanity and my safety. She found scars on my wrists one day. We talked about why they were there. They were fresh. I showed her my outer thighs that were covered in deep, blood red streaks. Those cuts still burned. She put her hand on my jagged skin, looked me in the eyes and told me they were beautiful. She told me that scars tell a story and they are nothing to be ashamed of. She made me promise that any time i felt like cutting, i would call her first. I promised. One day, I felt like cutting so badly and I called her. She had her mom drive her to my house and she ran up the stairs to my room as I was fighting with a blade. The blade was facing outwards - she could see it, but she didn't care. She covered my sitting form with her body and blade cut her stomach through her shirt. I heard her cry out in pain, but she didn't move. She wouldn't let go of me. I dropped the blade and it landed on the floor between my knees. She held me tighter and I grabbed onto her and cried. Blood soaked through her shirt - she had to have been in a massive amount of pain, but she never showed it. As my crying jag came to a slow halt, she eased away from me. Her blood that had soaked through her shirt had transferred onto my bare stomach. I hated myself for hurting her. She was an angel that was sent to help me. Yet she thought I was the angel sent to help her.
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