This is how it began:
Sitting on a porch, civilization to our backs, the hum of voices, music, glasses clattering. The ocean in front of us, ridiculously vast and incomprehensible. The horizon called to me, taunted me. Whispered to me of places I once went, places I might have gone to, places I will only ever dream of. Beside me your gentle voice told a story and I lulled myself into a trance with your words. The grating undercurrent of your voice, that rocky edge, sharp, hoarse, something so primal about it, something filled with an unpolished sexuality. I found myself hypnotized by it, by the way it made the blood pump around my body, faster, faster, made me acutely aware of every part of me. The passion of your words, the love of your subject, the way your eyes gleamed bright. A warm breeze, good conversation, two people enjoying each other's company. The perfect moment. A moment to be treasured, wrapped up in the blanket of memory, stored away gently, to be taken out on a lonely day and remembered, fawned over.
I felt beautiful, I could sense that the moon glinted on my caramel hair, that my perfect-summer-sky-blue eyes sparkled with star light. I knew you saw it too, that you were pleased by the effect the ripples of my white skirt had against my long tanned legs and the shadows my silver moon earrings threw across my cheek. I saw the way you watched my lips move and I ran my pink tongue over them, tasted the lemon, was suddenly aware of how full they weer and I felt lucky not to have thin lips, felt proud of my plump, volumptuous mouth.
Afterwards, I went home and you entered my dreams. I could feel you. I opened my eyes in the morning- I thought of you. I closed them at night to thoughts of you. You infiltrated every part of me, seeped through every pore. You filled me up with your image, your eyes, your smell. I found myself coveting things you had touched, conversations we had had. Your every word was analyzed, chewed over, engrained into my mind. I listened to your favourite music, watched your favourite films.
This is how it played out:
I lost control of myself. Grades slipped. Friends fell to the wayside. I lived, I breathed, I wished for you. I breathed you in when you were near me, sucked in your essence. Like a drug addiction, at first I thought- I don't need him, I could stop if I wanted, I just don't want to. I believed I could go back to existence without you.
I wanted you more then I wanted anyting. Self-respect, dignity, pride. Around you they were nothing, jut words, just words from a storybook.
I gave myself to you so simply, so humbly. For you I would have been anything and so you made me into nothing and I submitted. I used everything I had. Having sex with you was something I did willingly. It was what you wanted. And I wanted everything, anything you wanted. I would have gladly run way to Argentina, India, Thailand with you. I would have dropped everything. I was the girl I had always most despised, the girl in books who gives it all away for a guy and you think "god, how stupid, how immature, couldn't she see what would happen, couldn't she tell she was just another girl, what was she thinking?". But now I was that girl, sleeping with you between the guitar case and the amplifier in the backseat of your car. I lost my virginity to you and I didn't care- what was viriginty, anyway? People made such a big deal out of it. Who cares, I reasoned with myself and lay down in front of you. Your kisses were exctacy, the world crumbled when your lips touched my neck, it fragmented into pieces, nothing seemed real, everything was broken, swirling. The world melted, merged, twisted. A kind of euphoria, a swell of pleasure, this was it this was you and me. I imagined an us, a real us, a boyfriend-girlfriend us.
Suddenly we were having sex. A twinge of guilt ("should I really be dong this?") quickly covered up. I just concentrated on the fact that it was you, you were the one touching me, this was really happening, this was it, the stuff of dreams. It hurt, it felt akward and strange. Doubt crept in as soon as you rolled off my body but I pushed it away, buried it. Like a child who gets that doll at Christmas, only to discover it doesn't come with the accessories from the advertisement, that the batteries aren't included. I felt like there had to be more and yet how could there be more? You were a God on Earth, I had given you every single part of me that mattered-it had to be worth it. There couldn't be more.
This is how it ends:
So delusional. I was so, so delusional. It seems so stupid now. So cliche. But then, at the time, in the moment, it was everything to me. I thought I would never love like that again. I thought I would never find anyone like you again.
The next night it was that slut from your grade, with the dark hair and perfect skin. She was beautiful. Was she better then me? Don't answer that- of course she was. Did you share your cigarette with her, too? Talk about your dreams, your family, your favourite childhood memory, your first kiss? Did she get to touch your silver earring and stroke the baby soft skin of your ear?
I'm killing myself over you. I can't believe it but here I am. The knife slides so easily though the skin. I'm another fucking teen suicide statistic. And when I'm gone you'll think "I wonder why?" And you'll feel cool because you slept with the gir who committed suicide! You'll have that touch of celebrity that being involved in tragedy bestows. Lucky you, eh? And will you find this story, these flimsy pages, tucked beneath the floorboards? Will you see the blood that stains the ink and think "That blood is caused by me"?.
Of course, it's the pills that will kill me. But the skin slicing passes time, adds a certain something to it all, don't you think? I sound crazy, I know. I sound insane, pushed over that thin line between normal and 'off her rocker'. What am I doing, throwing my promising life away ("Honor Roll Student Commits Suicide: Small Beach Town Mourns") for a guy, a stupid guy who everyone knows has gotten with every half-decent girl in school? I was bound for Yale! I've had books published, founded school clubs. I was captain of the volleyball team and we won every game we played. I tutored underpriveleged kids and still managed to have a social life, a real one, with drink and drugs and friends. People came to me for advice. I hung out with my mom at least one day a week, told her everything (except for about you). I babysat my little brother without being asked, took him to movies, taught him to read, slept in his bed when he has nightmares and sung him to sleep. I was going to be someone.
Now I am dying. Sleep is over taking me. The hate for myself that you gave me is building, building up, eating away at me. You made me do this. Made me. You basically put the pills in my mouth.
I have doubts that this is the right thing. But the pain is so much to bear. And the digust with myself...I was trapped inside my body. My used and discarded body. I was just a shell of my former self. I suppose it is as much my fault as it is yours. But it's too late to be rational. My surroundings are blurring. This is it, this is death. I can hear my little brother laughing somewhere. He seems so very far away. Life feels distant. I remember that first night, looking at the horizon.
I would have been anything for you. And you- you chose to make me nothing.