My Body, His Canvas

Breaking Rules

As he and I went on making love again and again, I slowly started realizing that I had grown to rebel against my parents and I had grown to be more confident breaking the rules. I was less scared, and I failed to see the wrong in my actions at the time. Because me following my heart felt right. Because following my heart was the one thing I couldn't do all those years, because of my strict parents. I was always told what to do and not to ask questions, nor to give my opinion on things, because they didn't care to know my thoughts on things. I just had to obey.

Wondering hurts

While I spit in the face of every rule my parents made, I noticed more and more that every time after my guy and I shared the bed for some love making, he did not care to speak to me. I used to think it was because he was busy or because his phone had no data or wasn't connected to the internet. But that wasn't the case. Every time I would open our chats it would show me he was online. But he didn't text me nor did he care to ask about how I was, or so it seemed and so it felt. Every day after that I would lay down in bed contemplating if he was really just using me. Every time I lay down in my bed wondering if our friendship even mattered to him. Every time I lay down in my bed, wondering if he really saw a friend in me or if he was just lying to get himself what he wanted, plain sex. But then after a few days he would finally care to text me so it would not look suspicious, I think. And he would not give a shit about how it made me feel at all, or so it felt, or so it seemed. And I used to pray to dear God, that someday soon he would wake up and find out that I was all he needed. But I was foolish, and blinded by my lust and love for him. Deep down, I knew that he was busy texting and flirting with other girls besides myself. I knew, yet I ignored it and hoped he'd love me back some day. I used to think it was fine and that if I'd wait for him that eventually he'd be interested enough to love me back the way I loved him. But love is love and lust is lust. I cried and I cried and I cried the day when I was forced to accept that he wasn't ever going to love me; that he wasn't ever going to care or be an adult about the situation. I was broken. He made sure of that.

B R E A K I N G R U L E S

for

HIM

I snuck out of the house again and again and again to see him. You know when you do something once, you fail or it ends up having a horrible outcome the first time around, yet you do it twice or multiple times anyway? Because why not? Well I broke the rules time and time again for him, because I believed that somehow some way I would be able to make him mine. I strongly believed that I could turn him into someone who would love me back. All the rules I broke, I broke with the intention of getting him to see and understand that I was putting a lot at stake and that it meant the world to me to be by his side, to make love to him, to be in his presence. But even so our relationship had ended nonetheless. He did tell me that he loved me a lot more and his behavior towards me had changed for a while. He seemed very much so interested in me, emotionally. He kept telling me more often how he loved me and how he saw us together in the future. But soon after, it all changed. He seemed less interested all of a sudden and he ignored me, which I didn't understand. I kept questioning him, but he kept telling me that he wasn't ignoring me. And waiting even longer became harder and harder for me, because I felt like I had been waiting too long for him already. A year had gone by and I was still waiting for him, so it became unbearable to a point where I started obsessing over the fact that I wanted him to be mine. Until...

... one day he ended everything and cut me off completely, because I found out that he was messing with other girls behind my back again. I guess he did not like it at all when I confronted him. So I was left broken and alone. At the time my father and I weren't speaking to one another either, because he had found out about me sneaking out and most of the worst lies I had told my parents to get what I wanted. I hit rock bottom and I felt I had no choice but to break it down to my mother. I told her of almost everything that happened between my guy and I and why we weren't going to be friends any longer. At a certain moment it felt like a relief, but the relief I felt wasn't enough to compensate for the tremendous heartache I felt at the time. Every day after he cut me off was a true struggle. I cried every day at work and at school. I could not even bring myself to speak of love in general. I was miserable and thinking of ending the heartbreak by just committing suicide every now and then. But then I reminded myself that if I did that, life would move on and people would just forget me. But people forgetting me is the opposite of what I want from life so I fought the urges successfully and got through each day until, finally, I felt no pain anymore just numbness. All I felt, still, was the lack of him in my life. I missed him a lot. Every day.

I was in a relationship with someone else shortly after my guy and I split. But even through that relationship, I couldn't help myself but miss my guy. I wanted, still wanted him back. I may have been "his loss" as some of my friends called it, but to be truly honest, it felt like he was and remained "my loss". I truly felt like I would not be able to love anyone else as deeply as I loved him and that's why it hurt me so much that he never loved me the same at all. Because what was I supposed to do with all this love I had for him that he refused to accept? I had it in my heart and in my mind, in my bones and in my flesh, it was overflowing and I couldn't even give it to him. I wish I knew what I did wrong for him to feel like he deserved anyone else except me. I wish I had all the answers, but I know that even if I had the answers it would not, at all, take away the way that I felt then.