brown with gold surrounding it, petals that were brightly colored. I liked how bright the flowers were, so I decided to follow it. the path with sunflowers led me to leaves that had fallen and sticks that were broken.
I followed for a while, and then I stopped. frozen in place, I realized where I was. it was where you had taken advantage of me in so many horrid ways. I was holding a small bouquet of flowers in my hand, my fist tightly enclosed around the stems, and everything came back. all I could think about where the way your fingers had scavenged every inch of my body, like you were on some sort of quest. it all slammed into me. everything I had been hiding behind that wall that I had built so high; it all came crashing down. all I could feel was the way your hands had found my waist and your lips had claimed my neck. like I was some object to be toyed with. I hated it.
you had found some twisted way of turning all of the brightest days into a dark thunderstorm. I hate how I don't like hugs anymore. because every time you hugged me, you held on too tightly for too long, even after I squirmed and tried to get away. no matter how much I squirmed, you held tightly onto my waist. I hate how I always seem to write about you now. whether it be about how our "love" was. our "love", which I now realize was only abuse. nothing about the love you claimed for me was real. I always find myself writing about how I miss the old things, like how you would hold my hand under the tables or how blue your eyes were. but now, all I am able to write about is how much I hate the things you did to me. all I can compose into words are pain. anger. regret. fear.
I regret breaking up with you the way that I did. I wish I had done it in front of everyone. I wish you could have felt the humiliation that I had felt after you used me. I wish I had reported it after it all went down. and I know you tried to apologize, but if you throw a dish on the ground, "sorry" won't mend it back together. you didn't even try to fix what you did.
but I know that I can't reverse time. I know that it's not normal to immediately panic after someone hugs me. I know that it's not normal to be absolutely terrified of the day when I do develop feelings for someone again, whenever that may be. I know that it's not normal to break down in the middle of the woods because of some fucking memory.
that day, on my way back home. back to where I felt safe. I dropped the sunflowers. each one was laid in a trail behind me. I hope that they get stepped on. crushed. buried. I hope that they are now under dirt and fallen leaves. I hope that everything that ever reminded me of you will just disappear.
