What If (What if I loved you)

Preamble

WARNING:

This chapter may trigger some people. It highlights the difficulty of anxiety and rape memories. If you are young or are triggered by this kind of subject, I advise you to go on to the next chapter.

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And there was this boy. This boys with brown straight hair, a smile that could heal every conflict in the world, as sweet as a lollipop, as beautiful as a Greek statue; serenading beautiful stories. That boy that was fixing me with its brown watery eyes, and that at that moment was the brightest star in my universe. This boy that is simply just mine, and I am simply just his.

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I feel nauseous, my all body is shaking, I have this irrepressible urge to scream, to shout as loud as I can, but I can't do it. At that moment it seems and it is, the hardest wall I have ever had climbed, the worse test of my life. In this new, dark, lifeless flat, which seems so foreign to me, where there's no noise, the memories of his stony, disgusting voice come back to me. These incessant slapping, covering my tears, already almost inaudible in that dark room. That smell of old wood, that could make me puck. These contradictory emotions: I didn't know how to express myself, to tell him that I wasn't OK, that it wasn't OK, that it wasn't what I wanted; and my body tingling with pleasure. Just fulfilling its primary function. I'm disgusted with myself, how I can even say that I didn't want it when my body wanted it so badly. My vision becoming completely blurred, my brain ceasing to function. Just thinking about it makes the bile rise in my stomach, my throat burns, I have this sudden urge to vomit, as if my whole self was going to come out of this disgusting body, covered in barely-healed red marks.

I hate myself for not saying anything, for not being able to scream that day. For not being able to do it now. For not hating the person that he was.

The smell of burning bread snaps me out of my reverie. He's gone and he's never coming back. At least that's what I'd like to believe, what I convince myself every day in front of the mirror, what people would like me to believe. But the truth is that I can't do it. During the day I see him everywhere. I see him in that alcoholic sitting in the metro, in that CEO of an international company in a suit in Gangnam, in that nurse in the local health centre. When life gets dark, he haunts my nights, keeps me awake, makes me nauseous. And when tiredness finally gets the better of me, he's there in my nightmares, in this universe so dark and vast, filled with black holes. In a place where no form of substance, radiation or light can escape.
I used to love escaping into this universe where there were millions of galaxies, filled with billions of stars and light, and where no sound could get through. Where you could only hear the glow of my desires. Where even when a star died, it formed a supernova; an explosion so intense that it shone brighter than an entire galaxy. Where I could simply forget existence for a few seconds.
Now, when a massive star runs out of nuclear fuel, when my life runs out of joy, when it no longer has any taste, it collapses in on itself. The heart of the star then becomes a black hole or pulsar, ejecting the whole of my existence with it.

I wish I could be a better person, I wish I could be brave, I wish I could tell everyone. Shout his name from the top of the universe, so that everyone hears me, so that they believes me, so that he can't do to someone else what he did to me. I'd like to be able to silence the little voice inside my head that tells me it's my fault, that I'm pathetic, disgusting, that I don't deserve to be happy, that this is what I've always deserved. That what he did to me was love, that I don't deserve better than him. That I can't hold it against him. But the truth is, I feel like I never could. That night, when it all began, was the moment when death welcomed me. Since then, I've been buried lower than the devil himself, and no one will ever be able to get me out of there. A coffin is comfort enough for me. That in these moments, I'm not even worth dying.

When step in that building in Seongsu-dong for the first time, I could not stop wondering what was I doing here. Of course, I had and I'm working hard to get into this company, but I don't belong here. It's a billions wealth company and I can't stop thinking that I'm not smart enough, handsome enough, determined enough, brave enough... And soon, the same people who thought they knew me just by reading a resume and meeting me once will see that too. All of a sudden, compared to this huge building, adorned with blue glass, I feel so small, crushed by the weight of the world and existence. Crushed by guilt, because it should have been someone else here and not me.
"It's going to be OK, everything's going to be fine, just take a deep breath."

I've been repeating that sentence to myself ever since I received that email. Ever since I learned that I was going to do my dream job, in my dream company, and that I was going to work with people I'd idolised for years. With people who help me every day to be myself, to love myself, who are there without realising it. It's thanks to them that I'm still here, and even though I doubt a lot, even though when the world is silent life is impossible, even though when I close my eyes the ghosts of my past come back to haunt me, even though I don't feel belong in this universe, they're still here. And I am okay thanks to them. That's why I wanted to work here, to thank them for their words that have helped me so much.
Life has never been simple, but it's about to get simpler. At least I hope so.

"It's going to be OK, everything's going to be fine, just take a deep breath"

"It's going to be OK, everything's going to be fine, just take a deep breath"

"It's going to be OK, everything's going to be fine, just take a deep breath"

Right now, as I approached this crowed building to start my first day at work, I don't fail to say it either. In fact, I think it's in this situation that it makes the most sense. I usually use it to fight imaginary ghosts, spirits from my past, but now I use it to make them come back, because I hope deep down that they'll come and save me; that what they've taught me will help me.