It’s funny, if you asked me at 18, who I thought I’d become, I wouldn’t have guessed this is who I would’ve become.
As a young and wily 18 year old, I thought I knew it all. But I made all my decisions consciously and was prepared to deal with any and all outcomes. That’s part of how I took on being an adult. There came a time in which I was going to be fully accountable for the decisions I made; the fallout after, were my just desserts. I look back now and see I was young and foolish. I thought I had the world at my feet and really, I was just a very tiny pawn in the very big world. I saw myself as a warrior, but what I didn’t realize was I was a babe. New to a different world; things look similar to what I’d known from the past, but things were just different enough. New waters to navigate. New territory to explore. New people to meet. I never realized I could and eventually would take on the worst traits of those in my life. I always believed I was stronger than most, I wouldn’t yield to the pressures of others. I didn’t succumb to peer pressure, oh no, instead I started to pick up on their habits, mannerisms, tics, and personalities. The parts of me, which made me my own person, started to fade as I let myself fall into the shadow of someone else. I became a shell; hollow, faux, and ordinary. I let myself spend time with people who didn’t challenge me to think bigger and broader. I didn’t let myself grow to my fullest potential.
I had never truly experience a heart break. Sure, a few minor heartaches, a crack here and there, but never truly the full bearing weight of losing someone you loved.
My heart was torn out; stomped on, decimated, and then handed back to me. It’s ironic, I truly thought I was ready. This was someone who brought out the best in me, even when he drove me up a wall. He was always there for me; be it a text or a phone call. Hearing his voice could always break through the fog. That night I lost both my best friend and the love of my life, I forgot how to breath. Hurt, doesn’t even begin to describe my pain. Every breath was a wheezing gasp. His coldness and heartlessness stabbed into my broken heart, a knife cruelly twisted with every word. The loss I felt was beyond staggering. I was stripped of who I knew myself to be. Moving on was the hardest; but distance made it easier. He didn’t live in the same state, it was long distance before. So it didn’t change my day to day life. But there were so many reminders. Little things. That’s what always took me back. Each time I was brought back, a little more of me died inside. It took a long time to truly get over that pain. I can say three years and I’ve made peace. Three years and I accepted the loss. My heart healed, harder and stronger. I steeled myself to not let him ever see me as defenseless and helpless. I grew up. I can now say thank you to him because he taught me more about life and love than anyone had before. It’s not all rainbows and butterflies. It’s hard work, and if both people aren’t willing to make it work, it’s going to crash and burn.