I Am More Than These Bones

Everyone copes differently with the bad things that have happened to them in life. Most people cope with things by ignoring them. But that's not really coping, is it? I understand it's the easiest method, but it never solves anything. Never helps.

I know that for a fact. That's what I tried to do at first. Tried to ignore it. Forget about it. Go on with my life and pretend none of those bad things ever happened. But they did. They occupied the back of my mind every waking moment and they dismantled my mental stability. But still, I thought if I never talked about it, owned up to it, it would just go away.

But how can you make the last 4 years of your life... just go away?

You can't. It's not possible. I was stupid for even trying to attempt it. So that's why now, every Tuesday and Thursday, I'm going to therapy.

Ugh. Therapy. I know how you'd feel about that. I remember when we were younger and your parents tried to force you into family therapy. I remember how against it you were. How you went, but never spoke a word. Or, if you did decide to speak, it was only because you were drunk off your ass. I remember listening to all your therapy related stories and vowing to myself that I would never, never, ever, no matter what, go to therapy. But. Things change. Vows are broken. You'd know all about that, right?

My therapist told me to write to you. Get a notebook and a pen, sit down in a relaxing, safe environment and write down my feelings. She said it was the best (and safest) way to express myself and deal with my emotions. Since I can't, and won't, actually talk to you.

I want to say that I miss you. But that's wrong. I shouldn't. And I don't, to some degree. I'm safer without you here. Things are better. The sky is bright and I can breathe clearly and my body doesn't feel like a jail cell anymore. But I feel... lost? I think that's the correct word. It's just a very strange thing to spend 4 years of your life with someone and see them on a daily basis then go to never seeing each other ever again. My therapist says, in time, it won't be strange. It'll be normal, just like being with you was normal for those 4 years.

You hurt me. Why did you do that? You fucked me up real bad. I really want to know why.

Remember how I used to drink and dance and swear? How I was never afraid of anything or anyone? How I enjoyed being around other people? How I had hopes and dreams and wanted to do big things with me life? I'm not like that anymore. I don't know who I've become. I've been reduced to nothing more than a bruised and closed-off bundle of nerves. It's hard for me to leave the house. Partly because I'm afraid I'll run into you. But also because I have no desire to go out. It's hard for me to talk to people. Or at least want to. It's hard to enjoy anything. Or anyone. Everything is painful now and everything is hard. I'm not myself and I'm not sure if I ever will be again. I know that's your fault. You owned me. And when I left, I think you still kept me.

Sometimes I look at my skin and miss the marks you used to leave.

You really hurt me. And I should hate you. And I do. But love is stronger than hate, right? That's so fucked up.

I don't think this letter went very well. So, since my words aren't very good at accurately expressing my feelings, I'll end with this quote I found sentiment in.

“Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.”