Trauma Stories

Still the Same - Part 1

!!Content warning!!

Mentions of: Abuse, hebephilia(grooming of a young teen), manipulation, heavy topics

This is a poem with no regard for decent rhythm or structure, it is completely free-form.

The topic is the trauma I still carry with me from a previous relationship. The person I dated was, and still is, manipulative, emotionally and psychologically abusive and narcissistic and after dating me, they groomed a minor into dating them.

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We made up cats. We made up unicorns. We made up wizards and witches. We weren't great at drawing, yet we spent every free second doing it.
School breaks were just us, sitting outside the classroom and drawing our made up characters, while we were trying to not acquire back issues due to a lack of chairs.
Sometimes they kissed, sometimes they held hooves. Not knowing who or what we were, we slowly discovered that our hearts were intertwined.
Or was it just me?

Back then, I thought that you felt the same. But your lies, your fickle nature and your constant desire to deny it later, makes it truly hard to know now.
You played me well, I must admit. Dancing to your flute came naturally to me.
Weekends were spent at each other's place. Esoteric stone beliefs blurted out of you and, though I did not really believe the same things as you (in fact, I often thought your beliefs were nuts), I found it all so fun and fascinating and truly connecting.
Sitting in a circle of cheap, but pretty, stones, I closed my eyes, and you told me to turn, to stop and to reach out to a random stone. I forgot a lot of things from that time. My pain forced me to forget. But I remember the stone. It was a serpentine. A green stone, I thought I was lucky, picking a stone of my favorite color. My memories of that day don't include the little blurb of text you read to me from your book, explaining what it meant for my life that I had picked the serpentine.

But I do remember how excited you were that I did this with you. That smile was something I would have killed for. That cute, bright smile, those big glasses, the awkward way you dressed, we both dressed (I was in my emo phase at the time), the little nose wrinkles you got when you showed excitement.

I told you about my recurring daydreams, and how I travelled through worlds in them, and you told me that it must all be real. I was truly a knight, a unicorn, a witch, a wielder of magic devices to you. I believed you. I wanted to be something special for once in my life. I wanted to be important and mighty and finally be something that people would not enjoy tormenting.

We held hands during chemistry class and were so scared someone would see us. You seemed a little less terrified. I was fearing for my life. The judgment would have wrecked me. Even worse, it could have driven us apart. Two girls, holding hands, surely my life would be over.

After I confessed my feelings to you, we became an item. But your lack of filter endangered me. You seemed to freely tell people that I was the one you were experimenting with, whenever you asked for advice on whether you were normal for liking a girl.
Nothing happened. I was fine. But the terror ate me up from the inside. I wanted to be accepted. To love you. To be with you.

Despite the fear, we were still going. You sat on an air mattress in my room one weekend, and I couldn't hold out any longer. Resting our foreheads against each other, we kissed. You were convinced it wasn't my first kiss, after all, I had kissed a soldier in my daydreams before, but it was. Mine and yours.
The world was spinning as our lips touched. I felt like nothing mattered in the whole world, just you. You kept kissing me, over and over again. I felt truly happy for once in my life.

But we also fought. A lot. I hurt you, you hurt me. I now know that I lashed out, not only at you, but also at my other friends because I was confused and hurt. I wanted people to see me, to help me, to pay attention to me, and I was overwhelmed by all those thoughts and emotions, all that pain and trauma. It took me too long to realize that. But I did.

You pulled no punches. Telling classmates mean things about me behind my back, all while reassuring me that you would never do that. Calling my mother, trying to persuade her to turn against me, while I was vulnerable.
While we were an item, you ignored my wishes. I asked you to please stop fawning over that kid in our friend group, even if it was just a friendship. It hurt me. You didn't care.
The fear built up, the anxiety bubbled over. I was terrified of you, and it made me lash out even more.

And suddenly, I couldn't go to school anymore. Spent weeks in a psychiatric ward, wishing, pleading to get back to where we were. Dating someone else. A guy, an older guy, from the USA. He ate up every second I was on my phone. I had no one else.
I feel gross thinking about it nowadays. The sexual texts, the nude photos. The porn I drew for him. I was 14 and 15, I shouldn't have gone through that.
Men flocked to me online, wanting things from me, making sure that I needed their validation because I was alone. Making me say awful things, turning me into an even worse version of myself for them. I was just a kid, but I was so desperate for approval, for love, for anything.

You and I, we tried to be friends again after I got out. I tried keeping up with you, but you had replaced me with our friend. During class, you wouldn't stop raving about her, about what great friends you are and how she was your "soul sister". It hurt, a lot. But I tried to shut my mouth, remembering that you would use it against me. Somehow, we still ended up getting romantic again.

I switched schools. My grades were too bad.
Made a new friend there, we didn't have a lot in common but somehow still got along.
One day, the light on my phone started blinking. It was a message from our friend. Asking if we'd maybe want to hang out without you for once. We'd never done that before. You and her, you and me, all three of us but never her and me.
She slept over at my place and things were never the same again.
Almost all night we stayed up, talking about you. Realizing how you hurt us both. Realizing that you caused us pain, that both of us were mistreated by you. We bonded, we got closer, we became best friends

We didn't tell you about the pain, about the bonding, there was too much fear.

You got jealous. And I can't blame you, I would have been too. But it led to yet another fight. And you picked it with me and only me.
I remember that day. I was at my school friend's 16th birthday. We were in a little, secluded disco-like place, rented by her father. I got pressured to drink alcohol-free sparkling wine, everyone else drank the real stuff. I felt horrible and out of place, constantly going outside for air because it felt as if my head was going to explode among all those people, the loud music and the attention put on me.
And you and I were fighting. Texting back and forth, I was desperate to keep you, for you to please not be mad at me. I don't remember the details, but I remember calling you multiple times, crying, begging for you to talk to me. And you showed no real emotion on the phone. You were cold. Hanging up like I was some annoying prank caller. Blocking my number, refusing to let us talk things out. I was at my lowest, I was desperate.
I cried and cried and curled up outside, on the cold stone, trying to calm down, so I could rejoin the others and pretend like everything was okay.

Some woman, belonging to our group, tasked with keeping an eye on us, approached me. No matter how much I tried to communicate to her to leave me alone, to let me calm down and that I needed to be on my own, she refused to leave. In her mind, she was comforting me. Hugging me, putting her arms around me, telling me that she'd call a taxi and end the party.

In my mind, I was screaming on the inside. Leave me alone, don't touch me, don't ruin the party for everyone else. Stop. Stop. Stop. Body contact is the last thing I wanted, let alone make others' day worse because of my stupid issues. Because I couldn't keep it together.

I didn't return to school after that weekend. The next months are a complete haze in my mind. I remember nothing and if I do, it's incomplete.I officially got diagnosed with clinical depression, anxiety and autism. But you and I stopped talking after that night, so you didn't know.Our friend ended her friendship with you as well, making it clear to you that you scared her, that you can't be friends anymore. You never forgave her for her fear. Years later you would talk to me about it, trying to frame her as a monster for being scared of you. Making yourself the victim.