Reader Discretion: This story may contain triggering elements and information that some readers may or may not find suitable.
Such content(s) described are: (sexual assault\harassment, abuse, discrimination due to gender or sexual orientation, and graphic detailing of blood, guts and extreme gun violence)
If you are still reading I assume that you understand what was said and are okay with elements being presented.
So, without further ado, enjoy.
Many people believe that the key to happiness translates into the key of success. At a very young age I understood that happiness and success are two different values, therefore being two different thing’s. But for some this can be a bit difficult to understand, let alone achieve.
My mother had always taught me when I was a young girl that I had to always work for what I had wanted. And that things took time to come together and work for me.
My mother used to always say;
“After all sweetheart, before things work for you, you have to understand it, so you have to work for it.”
I always took my mothers words at face value when I was a kid. But now being this version of me that has went through what I had went through..well, let’s just say those words stick with me, more now than ever before.
Currently, I am 22 years old. Yeah I know, I’m in my golden years of life. Normally, anyone else my age would be building themselves up. Maybe having a significant other or in college, hell they’re probably even starting a family. But not me, no not me. I’m stuck going to therapy twice a week and having to stay inside because I’m too scared to leave the house anymore. Drowning myself in emotional pain, prescription drugs and regret. And the worst part of it is, is that I lie to myself. I lie to myself and I tell myself every single time.
I always tell myself that I’m fine and that I will get better. And it’s not that I don’t want to either, it’s only due to the fact that I can’t. I can’t move past that point in my life. I can’t move past that decision that I made more than over two years ago.
I try every single day to do so. But something is blocking me, as if wanting me to relive that feeling, wanting me to painstakingly relive that moment each waking day.
My therapist tells me that I should continue documenting my thoughts out in my journal when I can or at the very least record them. I chose the ladder. I figured that speaking my mind and giving her some room to breathe and just get into my mind..it gives me a sense of ease is what I’m trying to say here. A sense of peace knowing that someone hears me.
Growing up I never had someone there to listen. My therapist has told me this is why I’m so depressed and antisocial. The idea of not being heard has subconsciously crawled out from the womb of my childhood, down the legs that are my ears and into the crevices of the mouth of irony that is my mind.
What is the irony? Well, that’s simple. Despite not necessarily “wanting” to be heard. I’ve become fond of the idea of such. I guess at the end of the day we’re all human, isn’t that right? Yes, I-I think that’s the truth..
I was only 19 years old when I went out to the lodges with my ex-girlfriend. Her name was Fall. Oh, Such a lovely person she was. It’s funny because I never believed in those superstitious love stories that people spoke so fondly of. This was mostly due to the fact that I had never experienced love. At least not in a traditional sense, unfortunately.
I was ignorant and afraid. Much like any child, and one night when dealing with my boyfriend and his overly aggressive pleasures at the time. Fall who was his girlfriend at the time, freed me from those emotions. And more importantly of his aggression. It was swift and it was fast. It all happened in the blink of an eye. Like lightning striking down from the heavens. And before you have time to even process it it’s gone.
It was a few weeks before my birthday. Fall had wanted to surprise me for the holiday season. But I knew that deep down she had wanted to free herself of burden. Just as much as I wanted to free myself of the knowledge and knowings of truth. Truth about what happened the weeks prior. We had to get away, we had to remove ourselves. It was a must.
And if you ask me if I regret it. Well then to that I’d say. That I’d rather runaway from my issues in a sense of leaving the burden in the sea. Rather than facing them under the idea that they might drown me in the process.
Upon our arrival to the lodge. I could feel the cool sting that was brewing in the air. Perfectly matched and mixed with the white coat layered gently across the crusted surface.
I remember seeing that lodge for the first time baring witness to what had seemed like something truly beautiful and comforting. Somewhat of a prophet to my fortune. Somewhere were all of my problems and issues would seemingly go away. And the only thing keeping me away from that was the clinch of the front door handle.
I don’t know how to explain it, but despite the overwhelming sense of comfortability, something just seemed off about this place.
And I wish I hadn’t been right.