Sad. Angry. Relieved. Guilty. Overwhelmed. Numb. Nauseous.
I found out you died today. I found out, and all I wanted to feel was nothing, but instead, I felt everything. I don't know why I can't stop crying.
I remember us playing together as children at every family party. It felt like you were the only one who ever paid any attention to me. I felt invisible most of the time, but not to you. You were fun and funny and charismatic, and everyone wanted to be near you. I wanted to be near you... Until I didn't.
There are so many things I've wanted to say to you over the years... To ask you. And now, I'll never get the chance. I've played over that conversation in my head so often that I could swear it actually happened sometimes. But it didn't. And now I'll never know.
I'll never know if someone hurt you, too. I've always wondered and always wanted to ask. The thought occurred to me once, in my early twenties, when I was going through child abuse training for work. I became somewhat fixated on it after, and ever since. It's the only way I've been able to attempt to rationalize what happened. Not that I would wish that on anyone. But it has been an easier explanation to swallow than you simply being a predator.
I'll never know if you were sorry, or if you even care about what happened. Would it bring any remorse or trepidation to know that I still carry the scars from those years? They are part of the baggage I bring to EVERY relationship I've ever had, especially with men. They shaped how I saw myself and how I presented myself to everyone else.
You profoundly changed me.
Its only been within recent years that I have learned how to forgive you... and myself. It's still a work in progress, and now I feel like I may never get the closure I'd hoped for. I'm sorry neither of us got that chance. And, as shocking as it feels to admit to myself, I'm sorry you're gone. I had heard that you were trying to make a life for yourself. I hoped that you were trying to put some of your demons behind you, too.
Over the years, I have beaten myself up for what I let you do. I've loathed the wreckless girl I allowed you to turn me into for a time. I've felt shame, embarrassment, resentment, and disgust for us both.
I remember standing in the bathroom drinking bleach because I was late and "falling" down the stairs, and off my bike, and punching myself over and over didn't work. But I didn't know what else to do. I remember hoping it wouldn't kill me and leave my not quite fourteen-year-old body for someone I love to find. I remember being scared enough to take that risk.
I've hated you. I've wished terrible things on you.
I've wished you dead.
I found out you died today. I found out, and all I wanted to feel was nothing, but instead, I felt everything. I don't know why I can't stop crying...