It’s a frightening moment, when the life you left behind comes to find you.
When you’ve been gone for almost two years, and forsaken that entire existence.
It was over.
After enduring abject fear, every day, for years, and feeling so low and unimportant that any mention of a possible accomplishment seems light years away, you had left.
I had left.
Four years of sadness, terror, and anger, I’d left behind, to start a new life.
I’d built a new life here.
I was respected here.
People actually CARED about me here.
That was something I’d never experienced.
Sure, I made mistakes… I made a lot of them. But these people I’d met here still loved me, despite my imperfections.
That was something I’d never experienced.
People had cared so much that when I made a mistake, it had hurt them.
That was something I’d never experienced.
I didn’t know how to handle it.
But this was the life I was living. It was amazing. I loved it.
And one night, when I was out with these friends, having dinner, laughing, making jokes, just enjoying one another’s company, they came to sit down.
And there they were.
After two years, there they were.
Four people who had made my life a living Hell since the first time we’d spoken.
I remembered seeing them in the halls and just being afraid; keeping a ten foot radius at any given moment, just to protect myself.
I remember when they’d come up behind me and slap my ears.
I remember when they’d make fun of my awkwardness, making everyone but me laugh.
I hadn’t learned how to laugh at myself, yet.
I remember hearing them whisper to each other anytime I’d say something in class, followed by a quiet laugh. It was as if what I didn’t hear hurt me more than anything they could have said straight to my face.
I remember when one of them would line up across from me during football practice, just to kick my butt, knowing that he was better than me.
I remember when they’d tell me I was the biggest pussy this side of the Mississippi.
I remember hurting.
I remember hurting all the time.
I remember being afraid.
And I’d finally left… I was finally at peace.
At here they were.
And I couldn’t run.
And then every ounce of pain, fear, and sorrow I’d left behind two years ago was right back here again.
I’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Almost.
There they were.
Two of the kids who had hurt me more than anyone else could have, with the two girls who had made me feel so ugly, wimpy, and insignificant that no amount of positive reinforcement could have lifted me up, were sitting at the booth adjacent to our table.
I felt myself sinking into my chair.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
I felt my stomach churning; my throat closing up as I tried to contain the fear I was feeling.
What if they saw me.
What would they do to me.
I forgot the mistakes I’d made in this new life. I forgot all the pain I’d felt, and all the pain I’d caused others. This life was a blessing. I’d left that life behind for this one, and no matter how many times I just want to run away, I’d forgotten how lucky I was to be here.
Such a brief reminder of such a good choice has never been so terrifying.
