The Moon and the befouled mirror

Intrigued

Today I would like to tell you something true. Something of significance. Something I have avoided facing in my mind. So in my own way I will turn it into something worth reading, worth buying and hopefully something I will understand better and finally lay to rest once and for all.

There was a girl 2 years ago who was a version of me that was lead by her ego. But not just her ego. Her insecurities. Her jealousy. Her desires. Her thought that she deserved to hurt someone else as much as she was burning. Because she felt that God had thrown her in the pit fire of hell. And she understood it was her fault partly. Her actions that lead to where she was. Smoking in her purple tiled bathroom. Opening the small window so no-one would know, but she wanted everyone to know. For pity. For saving. Because that is what she was tought. By the fairytales and cartoons. She was a girl who had to be saved. She couldnt not do it by her own will. Or so she thought...

I was getting out of the car and getting the canvases out to put them in the cafe. My mom was helping me prepare the whole exhibition. She believed that pain is a fuel that you can use and so do I. But right now i just felt incredibly anxious and overwhelmed from everything happening at once. I was going to sing and have people read my poetry and look at my vulnerable paintings. Great! That's a great idea.

Finally the night had begun. My friends hugged me. Encouraged me. Smiled at me. Clapped for me. And he was there.
He is a boy I had gone to high school with. A boy I had a crush on in the 9th grade. We went to the movie theatre once with my 2 friends so it wouldn't be weird and than they moved away from our seats, because I spilled a drink on them which made the situation even more awkward (plus the movie wasn't even that interesting but he liked it at least)
We would talk in our literature classes about books and movies and get yelled at but i didn't care. I had lost weight by taking pills and eating less and I was getting attention by an intriguing blonde tall boy. I was 14 and I was happy. In the 10th grade i started gaining weight due to my weight loss not being the healthy way of doing things and guess who called me fat, ladies and gentlemen.
We were sitting talking about wine and I had said my family nor I drink and we are perfectly happy. And he had said well you know for some people wine is an art and I said as a joke obviously that I think candy is art. And what did he do? He looked me up and down and said and I quote "it shows, I mean dont worry im fat too" with a bunch of other guys sitting around us. Well okay then. I was in shock so at first I didn't know how to react . I was confused and sad. I thought he was my friend. I said I had to finish some spanish homework and he said in his very 'cool' voice "of course you do". During my next lesson I went to cry in the bathroom because fat shaming shouldn't be a thing and it had happened to me almost my whole life. What is wrong with people honestly?
After the lesson was over and I entered our classroom he told me he was sorry. I said that was just a not really nice thing to do. I think he was shocked I didn't shout or say oh no problem. I was real. That's who I've always wanted to be.
A few weeks later he became a private student so I never really saw him anymore.
Close to the end of the year our class trip to London was around the corner. I missed a little excitement in my life since I had been dissapointed by some of my best friends. Feeling lonely and in need of some kind of validation (honestly male). His parents paid for the trip in advance so guess who I spent time with.
I don't remember how it started, we couldn't stop talking. About books and poetry. Science and religion. Debating about why this and why not that. It was intriguing, it was exciting and it was thrilling. I wanted to talk to him more and more and more, but of course I could barely eat infront of him. One day we went away from the others and walked around alone for hours. I was in love with the city and its inclusivity. So many cultures, so many types of architecture, most importantly so many books. Almost perfect other than the zoo in my stomache. We went to an Indian restaurant where I just drank water (too nervous to eat anything). Half an hour later we walked on a bridge and he told me about his p*rn addiction. I told him a struggle with addiction too but I didn't specify it was food. That's too ridiculous right? He would just say yeah right and I'd wanna die from embarrassment (at least this way i was mysterious). I tried so many things like reading while we walked from one castle to another touristy place so he'd approach me and think I was cool. It was weird I am
fully conscious of that, but I didn't wanna be obviously going to him all the time. That would seem too desperate.
He showed me a part of him and showed the others someone else. I liked that I got to see more of him. I liked being the only one he trusted (even if it was only for a few days). Brainwashed by media and the idea of the boy who only smiles for you, only shows you his vulnerable side, only smiles at you was messing with my head since I was 13 years old.
In the summer we met one more time so that i could show him the draft of my poetry collection. He got so late that one time that I stopped reaching out a few months later and I was already dating someone else. While that relationship was going on I avoided eye contact with him and any type of communication whenever I'd see him in school (which was only a few times during the year).
In the summer I got broken up with and betrayed by a close friend. I was crushed and heart broken, more than I thought I'd. I hadn't been in love with my boyfriend, but he had become like family to me. The attachment and betrayal hurt more than anything.
Anyways that summer I wrote him. I wanted him to come to my art exhibition. That was one of our connections. Art. He might have loved art almost as much as me.
So back to the present. He came. He's probably one of the most unreliable people ever but he came. He was tall and looked lovely. With his baggy shirt and baggy pants. We hugged. and we talked and I felt something again.
Every. Single. Time.