I sat in the dark silence that was my old friend while I was younger. Somehow it had become tainted over the years. Stained by bad memories and too many tears. Still, each time something happened that I couldn't handle, I ran to it. It was nothing more than a little space in the basement. A cubbie hole that held all of my childhood dreams and hopes. As I grew older I learned to confide in friends. But not this time. This time, I needed my special place. I sat there, in the now cold and dingy basement that wreaked of mold, and thought. Just thought about all the times I had come here to unload my mind. This time was no different. Just like all the other times I had come because of something that had happened. Not physically. But to my heart. I took a deep breath and tried to slow my quickly beating heart as I thought about her.
I had never before gotten so invested in someone. The moment that she caught my eye, I was hooked. She had this air about her. As if the world were hers for the taking. And I was young. And thought that if only she would love me, the whole universe would brighten. I spent 4 years of my life trying to make her love me. I worked hard. But didn't neglect her. I knew that she had strayed. I had lost count of the times that she had been caught in the act. And I continued to tell myself that it wasn't her that was the problem, it was me. I paused in thought to wipe the tears from my face.
I knew from the beginning who she was. She had a problem. She was broken. Suddenly it was my job to fix her. Love became a chore. A constant job to keep her. But she would smile at me sometimes, and kiss me, and I would forget about the cheating and lying and stealing. Just long enough for me to hold on a little longer.
I tried to clear my mind of her. Tried to forget those bright big blue eyes and long dark hair that felt so smooth in between my fingers. The way that her fingers felt interlocked with mine. The way that her soft lips seemed to be made to be next to mine. It was hard to give up someone like that. You become so dependent on them. For everything. Happiness and sadness and when they are not around you feel consumed by this terrible fear. Because they might go out and find someone and be gone.
And that was just what happened. Sarah had always been someone who felt caged. She would smile and laugh at all the right moments but when it came down to it, she was depressed. And seemed to be more than a little manic sometimes. I urged her to get help. She wouldn't listen. She would go on binges. Drinking binges. Where she wouldn't come home for days on end. I would sit up all night waiting for the call from the hospital or morgue that said she was dead.
She would always show up again. Smiling and laughing as if she had never left. I hated myself for loving her. I hated that I had ever become so dependent on someone so intent on making me hate her. She did all the wrong things, and I sat by and watched. I supported her completely. What a fool I had been! The whole time she always had one foot out the door.
Last summer, the summer of '09, she caught me talking to a friend of mine. An old friend that I had simply run into. And I laughed about something and she freaked out. She asked me why I was pretending to love her while I was off fucking every girl in town. She wouldn't listen when I told her that my friend, Mariah, wasn't even gay and was married with children. She stood there yelling. And then crying and then ran out of the store.
I never knew then what was going on. I never suspected for a second that something was wrong. To me, the way she acted just proved that I was getting to her. That she was starting to love me. Or at least the only way that she could love me. I rushed home after apologizing to Mariah and found her in the bathroom. She had a straight razor and there was a lot of blood. I couldn't stop myself from yelling at her and asking her why she would do something like this. Why would she want to leave me. I pleaded with her to never try again as I called an ambulance.
The hospital kept her for a month. They had her on pills. They said that they thought she was bipolar. And severely depressed. I hugged her and kissed her and begged her to forgive me. She seemed okay for a while. Until the day I came home to the note. The note that said that she couldn't take it anymore. She had met someone in the psych ward. Apparently this girl she met, was everything I wasn't. Looking back she must have wanted to hurt me. I don't understand why.
Now when I look in the mirror I see a broken person. I remember once thinking that I was pretty. I remember once thinking that everything was incredible and the world was ripe for the picking. And it was. Until I met Sarah. I haven't dated since. Not that my friends and family notice. They know what I need and what I don't. And right then, I needed some time to figure out who I was. And that's what this is all about. This is a story of me. And my life to happiness. And maybe finding fulfillment along the way.
