When I was seven, I was never really thinking about my parents getting a divorce. I always thought if moms and dads loved each other they would stayed together forever. Right? Well when I finished the second grade I learned this wasn't true. Right when I went downstairs to tell my parents that I was ready to go to dance practice they sat me down and explained to me that they weren't happy together and that they needed a break.
The truth is that I needed a break too. I wasn't happy that my mom and I were moving out of the house, I was devastated. But I realized that life has different plans for your future and not everything works itself out like in the movies.
The first couple weeks of not being with my dad were horrific. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat, but I always had hope that when I wake up every morning I would see him at the dinner table coffee mug in hand waiting for me to sit with him and just talk. I would always expect him to be there at the bus stop waiting for me to get off the bus running over to him and him embracing me in a big bear hug. By the time I turned 8 and was in the third grade, I knew that was never again going to happen.
And as I got older I thought to myself that it was all my fault that my parents got divorced. I thought maybe it was because my father didn't love me or want to be around me anymore. So, that's why I started to lose control.
At first I started losing control by punching my walls in my room, or by being a real big bully to my fellow classmates at school, or even at dance practice I always thought that I had to be the best and by that I would push the other dancers and blame them for messing up the dance routine.
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I sighed for what feels like the hundredth time today, pushing my chair away from my desk and slouching down in it. I throw my head back and stare at the ceiling as the ceiling fan continues to whir around.
Nothing is interesting about it, but it's better than continuing my math homework or responding to any of Archie's texts. Sooner or later, I'll have to face the storm. But for now I'd rather sit in the cellar and be safe.
The truth is, I'm scared. Archie and I have been dating for over a year, and I'm madly in love with him. We've said those words, the only problem is that I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm going to mess up what we have and ruin it.
I'm scared that one day he and I will get into a fight and I'll say something I don't mean. I bluntly told him I was scared, but I haven't told him why. That's why he's blowing my phone up with tons of text messages.
"What's going on?"
"I'm worried about you."
"Are you okay?"
I'm scared that maybe one day I'll lose him, like he finds someone better. He's told me before that I'm more than he's ever dream of, but I'm still scared. I don't want to mess up or ruin anything, I want it to be perfect, even though there is no such thing as being perfect.
I sigh and look down at my phone, before reaching forward and grabbing it. My hands shake as I type in the words, explaining to Archie why I'm scared.
"Archie I have to tell you something about my life. As you know, my parents got divorced when I was at a young age. And as I got older I always thought it was my fault that my Father left my Mother and I. So to get through the divorce I started to lose control on basically anything that was in my sight. And that's why I'm scared. I'm scared that one day I will take my anger out on you. I'm scared that I'm going to lose you"
It doesn't take too long for him to reply. It lasts for no longer than a minute maybe, but it feels like an eternity. Maybe it's the nerves and the fear, or just time simply slowly down.
Then Archie texted: "There's no way you could ever lose me."
So in the next few days after I sent that text to Archie he has been very generous and thoughtful of me by either sending me sweet love letters, or sending me lavandula (my favorite kind of flowering). Archie also has helped me by getting my mind off of everything by either take me out on a long date, taking a scroll in town, or by taking me to his family's boxing ring and letting me take all me angry out on a punching bag. He even listens to my rants about some stupid stuff he probably doesn't understand.
