Bittersweet

People have told me hundreds of times that it’ll be okay. I’ve come to figure out that when people say that, they use it as an excuse to cut your venting short, so that they don’t have to sit through your entire sob story. I never really expected people to listen to me. Why would anyone want to? I’m the type of person who likes little change. When something goes wrong, I panic. My anxiety owns me and controls how I react to certain situations.

I always told myself that I was going to find that special person who understood me and would help me fight the darkness. I always said I’d find that knight in shining armor who would tell me that I wasn’t alone. There have been three instances in my life where I thought that I found that person. There have been three instances in my life where I lost those people.

The first time I found him, we met in a way that I would most likely not expect. Nor, did anyone else, really. We met through soliciting. And his name was Matthew. He was trying to advertise for a website and we started talking from there. I remember that we had started talking on the phone a lot and literally became best friends in less than ten minutes. It didn’t take long for either of us to admit that we liked each other…

We dated for a year. You’re probably asking how that went, but honestly, I can’t even tell you myself. It was rocky, but stable at the same time. We relied on each other for comfort, and for a while, I was quite dependent on him. I felt almost controlled though. He used to get angry if I spent more time with my friends than him. He became very jealous and possessive… but for some reason I couldn’t stay away.

He cheated on me three times, and at that final time, he broke up with me. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t my fault, but the voices in my head always tried to tell me otherwise. I was a vegetable for months, and my insomnia made me stay up for weeks. It gave me brain damage from the deprivation, and now my memory on those sleepless nights is quite foggy, to be honest.

We stopped talking after that. I started experimenting with my dating experiences from that point on. I dated boys and girls alike, only to find that the bullshit is just as fluent with women as with men. With women, you get the same dating drama, except this time they can lie and tell you they’re a lesbian and then fuck you over by dating your straight female best friend’s love interest.

The first girl I dated has a name, but we’ll just call her bitch. And yes, the dilemma I described above is how we broke up.

I did get a few good things out of that bitch of a relationship, though. I learned how to finger properly and I met bachelor number two, whose name was Andrew. This boy and I were quite the controversy for a while. We met for the first time while walking through the hallways in school when he literally attacked my bitch to the floor.

He doesn’t seem to remember that part. He was most likely stoned as fuck. He was your average skinny boy who smoked lots of pot and listened to music until he passed out. Being the fucktard I am, I was naturally attracted to him. He was twice my height and had long, brown hair. He wore skinny jeans and band tees. He was gorgeous. But man, was he an asshole.

Being the overconfident psycho that I am, I had this theory that if I dolled myself up the right way and said the right things, I could get with anyone I ever wanted to. The first time that me and Andrew “officially” met was at our state fair. I was hanging out with bitch and my best friend, Tegan.

Let me explain Tegan for a moment. She’s the type of girl who hates people, but loves bitches. Not my bitch, just bitches in general. She’s the type of person who stays up late writing fanfictions about Harry Potter and ponders on why all the nice guys are either gay or taken and why her standards for boys are so fucking high that it would take 7 billion light years to reach it.

We met in kindergarten. But instead of taking things slow, like in most healthy relationships, we literally pulled each other’s fucking hands off and demanded our friendship, which consisted of having picnics in her basement listening to Nsync and playing super smash bros melee.

So anyways, we were at the state fair when this group of stoners came up to us. It consisted of Andrew and several of his friends. Me and bitch had already broken up at this point, so I didn’t give a shit about what she thought. I was ready to prowl on this boy, and with my hormones raging from my time of month, I was determined to rape him (which would have been an awkward way to say hello).

He asked us if we wanted to hang out, and apparently Bitch and Tegan already knew I liked him, so they declined, but told me to go ahead. I did with pleasure. We hung out for a long time, running around and causing mayhem (like throwing bagged goldfish into rivers and clapping as people walked into a dark alley) and just being dumb as fuck.

When Andrew and I were finally alone, we exchanged numbers and started chilling more often. We became very good friends. The more and more we hung out, the obvious it was that we liked eah other. By Halloween night, we were going on our first “unintentional” date. We went to a haunted walkthrough, but we were holding hands and the whole atmosphere was different.

We had our first kiss there, actually. And that was the start of our fucked up, six month relationship. It mostly consisted of me talking him out of doing stupid shit, him talking me out of being retarded, him trying to be sexual, me trying to say no, him bailing me to smoke pot, me bailing him to get drunk, and a little bit of us actually being a healthy couple and writing songs together and writing notes.

I think after six months of being blown off and ignored, I finally got the message that I was no longer an interest to him. So I broke it off, while he was high on shrooms just to give him a bad trip. I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to break up with him or not, but with a little help from an old friend named Cadence, I finally made my decision.

Cadence is someone very important to me. And he is also the center of this entire story. This is not a love story. This is the story of how my life began to come together, fall apart, come back together, and then get fucked up the ass. It all comes back to this one, special person though. Cadence Hale is bachelor number three.

So now you’re all probably wondering about who the fuck I am. Or maybe I’m just being overconfident again. My name is Charlotte Marie Sanders. I’m 16 years old, a sophomore in high school, and I suffer from schizophrenia and chronic insomnia. I was molested from ages four to eight and the fuckhead who did it finally moved away this year.

I’m selfish, insane, rude, and I think too much. When something doesn’t go right, I panic. If any of you are wondering, I’m still friends with Matthew, Andrew, and Bitch. I’m not as close with them anymore though. I’m also unsure of what I’m going to do next with my life. I’m a bit of a vegetable at the moment.

Before we get to that though, I should probably start from the beginning. Allow me to explain the story of Charlotte and Cadence.