Memory.

II

I will never be the same. Five people. Five people later and I am not the girl you met; I'm not the girl you first dated. The first person was irrelevant to now. However they played a big role in my being scared of alcohol. But I started drinking, and I knew my main reason was "Maybe it'll make me more appealing to some." I started going out with a friend to parties. The first one I didn't drink. The first one I decided to sit outside and wait for her. The second one I was sad. I had talked to you earlier that day. Just to ask about a shirt. I went with her and got very, very drunk. She left me somewhere and I ended up upstairs with someone. They held me to the bed. I tried. I actually tried to leave. I talked. This is where my fear to move came from, so later in the summer it hurt more and more to realize this first time dictated the rest. They slapped me, three or four times throughout the night. I got spit on and hit. They had me how they wanted to and then left. I remember it all. The friend found me later and had the audacity to say I had too much to drink. So I've been blaming myself for a while. The next was a party still, but a different person brought me. A trustworthy guy I was talking to. He stayed sober. He lost me at one point however and I ended up in another bedroom. I absolutely couldn't move. And I passed out at one point I think. The alcohol and anxiety mixed and the fear made it impossible to ignore every little thing. The spit, cum, sweat, bites, thrusts. Each motion. I turned away from his kiss at one point, and I let out your name ever so quietly, and I needed you. You were with another girl at the time I think. You were always on my mind. My friend found me and helped me with clothes and got me to his car; he gave me water and a towel he had. He took me to his house and just tried to assure me I was safe. He is the nicest person I've had the honor of meeting. We stopped talking however because he felt it was his fault. The third time was the worst. I went with another guy, once again. Yet this one. This is the worst "friend" I could've had. We were getting ready to leave, and he put me in his car. He got in too. I felt his hands, his grip tighten, his mouth on me wherever he pleased. With each thrust I felt my head rhythmically hit the car door and he finished in me. He leaned down to my face that had only few tears on it, and he said, "I bet he would love to have had you like I just did. But oh he has someone worth loving now." I remember the words clear as day. He fixed my clothes like nothing happened. He took me to a friends house and dropped me off while saying, "I think she had a little too much fun tonight. Keep an eye on her," and then winked at me. I showered that next morning. I showered and showered and I could not wash away the bruises I gained or the bad memories and feelings produced. I messaged you later that week. You went on to tell me about theater and friends. The now all too common first topic for you. You sent me a "Wow how beautiful 😍 red is definitely your color," message on Snapchat when I was wearing a bright, red lipstick. We talked. We reminisced. We stopped for a while. Liking each other's posts when they came up on Instagram, occasionally commenting. We got back together in early January 2017 after talking for a little less than a month. You, the forest green, lustful, galaxy eyed Tiger I had fallen for time and time again, lost your words on New Years Day, sitting and talking to me on my bed. You were embarrassed. You were sincere. Two weeks later, an unlikely boy came over and we made out, he almost had me, but ended up just touching me. Thank you, dad, for coming in when you did. He left, I broke down, and I hurt myself. I told you, and you said, "I'm gonna need some time." I felt so angry. You need time? Yeah, yeah, definitely. You then proceeded to tell me about a spin the bottle game that happened while we were together, right after we got together I believe, where you kissed people and it didn't occur to you until this time to tell me? We were doing okay. I started telling you things I've never told anyone. These situations, my big secret (the money related secret, as you would know it), and all else that I couldn't before. Things got iffy. Then you were at a party. Then you, the one with a girlfriend, cheated. You tell me a week later, try to make me break up with you, and we end up in an open relationship with a few small agreements. You did change, but not because you didn't follow through with those small agreements, or because when you're laced with anxiety you think it's better to hide the truth until you're ready; those were already traits I was familiar with. You changed the moment you said, "I haven't had any thoughts in my head the past few weeks." That's when you changed to me. My writer, my strong, thoughtful writer. On my bad days my poet, oh, my Edgar Allen Poe, with such talent. Your words flowed though your head with such beauty and expertise. Now you don't even have the words to tell me that I'll be okay so I do it myself, even though I already know I can. "Today, I want to cry. Two days ago I wore cute panties I thought you'd like. A week ago I sat down in the shower contemplating taking my life. ... And I'm not so confident in my ways of protecting myself. In fact those are non existent efforts. But please don't leave me out of your life." This had meaning, this meant so much more than that last sentence; the only one you focused on apparently by simply saying, "I have no intention of just leaving you behind." I hope not. I hope you don't get bored with this next girl. I hope she's smart enough to recognize when you like another and confront you like I didn't do. I loved, and love, you. Be my best friend forever like in the way we always discuss, please. Though unless you change from needing constant new attention from girls or boys that bring you in the spotlight and distract you from who could be the potential love of your life, please don't make me feel like I am your future or I am "the one". I am Mercutio, your lil beeb, Lioness, Raven, The Sun, Sunflower, babes, sweetheart; I always will feel that. Keep in mind, however, I am first and foremost simply just Meridian. I will always be my anxious, artistic, animal and kid loving, type to clean when bored, maroon haired, music loving kid. Whether I'm 17 and alone, 20-something and dating, 30-something and married, or any age. I will always be me -- single or with someone -- and you may want to revisit who you truly are and never change for anyone. Because I know a multitude of people who believe you haven't changed for the better. You helped me in December 2015 with the phrase "You will still be beautiful." Here's something for you: Remember where you started, ya nerd. Here's to you, for keeping me sane, loving me, making me tea, messing up some cool s'mores cookies with me (which were a brilliant idea, yet poorly executed), watching endless shows and movies and YouTube. Having fun without others and without anything but each other, and even having fun with others on occasion. Picnics, stargazing, naps, showers, playing lame games on your phone. Hair-dyeing, present-making, music-listening lovers, we are and were. Rebel or not, I know you have a cause. You will always find someone or something to love. You, Sir, are what I'd like to assume is a stereotypical "person that lost their way". I know you, kiddo, and you're my writer. My lover. My perfect vision. Don't hurt anyone else, try to stay true to you, and don't think that I'm telling you to change; all I'm saying is think about the past, you remember, don't you?