Negative Positive

The Beginning of the End

We were together for months now. we knew everything about each other at this point, and we were content. We were in love. 

From time to time, I would have my own issues. I was showing early signs of depression, anxiety, and OCD. I began to feel so sad out of nowhere some times, and if I had an emotion, it would come to me big, really big, even if it's a small issue. I would have frequent panic attacks that would leave me shaking and pale, I began to become obsessed with keeping things organized, I was stuck on things having to be an even number like on the car radio or the tv volume. It was (and is) an exhausting process for me to go through at such a young age. I knew there was something wrong, but I never told anyone because I always saw myself as someone who has to be happy, as someone who was there for others, I felt I needed to hold in what I was going through until I couldn't anymore. I especially didn't want to tell him because I didn't want his image of me to be tainted, I didn't want him to feel like he was tied to my problems, I didn't want him to see me any different from the girl he met and fell in love with months ago.  But I knew I could only live with those feelings for so long. It was an everyday struggle for me. It felt like I was stuck in a tornado of my own thoughts. 

Then, in April, it all collapsed for me. We were just setting up for the science fair we were about to have for my class. We set up our tables so we were next to each other that night. I thought I was doing the right thing by leaving him alone while he showed his findings. Since no one came to me as much, I would be talking to my friends. And there was someone in particular that I was talking to. He was tall, brown hair, and very charismatic. He and I were civil to each other, and we would talk from time to time. I didn't know that me talking to him was wrong to him. He knew that I didn't like confrontation, and he knew that I just had to be nice and polite to people because that's how I was raised. 

Afterward, Riley texted me, a whole paragraph saying how he thought we didn't like him and how we thought he was only there to look at me and touch me. Then he told me he thought I had feelings for him because of the way I was standing and because of the way I was holding eye contact. I was so shocked. How did he think I was cheating on him? How could he think that I was disloyal? I went into my room and collapsed onto my bed, my legs were weak, my arms were heavy, tears began to fill my eyes and that tornado came back to me and took me down harder than ever before. The same words filling my head over and over, words that I knew weren't true, bit I still believed them. It was like my mind was working against me. "CHEATER, CHEATER, CHEATER" was all I could hear, the sound of static in my ears, my eyes blurry with tears. I knew none of this was my fault, and yet I felt like it was my fault for being respectful. I found out via my friends that he was calling me names like bitch, whore, and hoe. I was able to feel the color drain from my face. So that was how he saw me. 

Two days later he apologized, telling me that he loved me and that he knew that what he said stressed me out and that he knew I wouldn't cheat on him. He didn't know that I knew about the things he called me. Even though he apologized, I didn't believe him. But I accepted it, and decided to move on. I wish I hadn't. Because that should've been my sign to run and never look back. But I didn't, despite everything, I was still stuck on the person I fell in love with. I chose to ignore the red flags that would show up progressively. I never told him that that night was when I relapsed after 6 whole months of being clear. It was hard to hide my winces of pain when something brushed against my arm, even if it was my clothes. It was almost summer and I was wearing nothing but hoodies to cover up. No one knew.