Crazy Beautiful
I Lost My Fear Of Falling.
I’ve always been a little bit different from the other kids. Such a cliché and overly used line, but with me, it’s true. I could start with my childhood, but the only thing that sticks out, is the conversation I had with my Ma a few months back. She told me that between my sister and me, I was the one that she and Dad worried about the most with this thing called life. She said, growing up, we noticed something was just slightly off with you but we just chalked it up to your personality, not wanting to admit that something was wrong. Now, now they wish they had done things differently, but there’s no use in crying over spilt milk.
September 12, 2005. The day that triggered the downhill spiral I’ve been in for my entire life. My boyfriend dumped me that day—he left me for another boy. I laugh about it now, for two reasons; the first, it was quite pathetic and the second, the irony of it now. I read and write gay sex, I’ve come to like the one thing that broke my heart. I was eighteen then. Still very much the teenager I had been since I hit thirteen. Sure I had grown and matured a little, but I still had some naivety left in me. I know now, that I did love him, but that’s neither here nor there.
After that day, and the three months that followed, I would learn just how many lies I was told and just how fragile my ability to trust another person was. I could trust anyone instantly, something I’m glad I lost after dealing with him. I would let anyone and everyone walk all over me, bending over backwards and stretching myself thin because I was just that nice of a person—I also thought it was okay. After I learnt the truth from him and cutting all ties with him, I found myself sinking in to a massive bought of depression.
I isolated myself (more than normal) from everyone, even my family. My bedroom is the second floor of our house and I didn’t have to leave unless I wanted to eat. I worked and went to college, that was it. If anyone wanted to talk to me, they had to initiate conversation and the few times I did socialize with my friends, I put on the happy face they expected. I did that for a year. It was easy to hide behind that façade; easy to be what everyone else wanted me to be. ‘Cause to be honest, by then, I had no idea who I was anymore.
September 12, 2005. The day that triggered the downhill spiral I’ve been in for my entire life. My boyfriend dumped me that day—he left me for another boy. I laugh about it now, for two reasons; the first, it was quite pathetic and the second, the irony of it now. I read and write gay sex, I’ve come to like the one thing that broke my heart. I was eighteen then. Still very much the teenager I had been since I hit thirteen. Sure I had grown and matured a little, but I still had some naivety left in me. I know now, that I did love him, but that’s neither here nor there.
After that day, and the three months that followed, I would learn just how many lies I was told and just how fragile my ability to trust another person was. I could trust anyone instantly, something I’m glad I lost after dealing with him. I would let anyone and everyone walk all over me, bending over backwards and stretching myself thin because I was just that nice of a person—I also thought it was okay. After I learnt the truth from him and cutting all ties with him, I found myself sinking in to a massive bought of depression.
I isolated myself (more than normal) from everyone, even my family. My bedroom is the second floor of our house and I didn’t have to leave unless I wanted to eat. I worked and went to college, that was it. If anyone wanted to talk to me, they had to initiate conversation and the few times I did socialize with my friends, I put on the happy face they expected. I did that for a year. It was easy to hide behind that façade; easy to be what everyone else wanted me to be. ‘Cause to be honest, by then, I had no idea who I was anymore.