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Is this my fault?
My boyfriend and I have been dating for 5 months. We walk the halls at school like we would never let go of each other. People always come up to me and say, "You and your boyfriend are so cute, I wish I had what you have." I then blush and reply with the oh-so-common 'thank you'. I am most definetly thankful that I have what I have, honestly. It's just..
What if they knew? What if they knew that I woke up in the morning to find bruises randomly painted on my body? That I was with him and he did what he did?
That night was the worst thing I could have ever done to him, i do deserve the worst. He has made sure i've gotten a punishment for it as well. I took that bottle, hoping to lose myself, and i did. I forgot everything, i forgot about my childhood, i forgot about my family problems, i even forgot that his mother was an alcoholic. That she had gotten tons and tons of DUIs and had just gotten out of jail. His worst subject is his mother. I did what i did, my selfishness hurt him. Do i deserve his words? Is it all my fault?
"No make-up" he texted me.
i wanted to argue. i always do. "But i like wearing make-up, i feel girly."
"I hate it when you wear make-up". That night, he came over. I had put on make-up, not so much, i didn't want him to see it.
"Are you wearing..make-up?" after that, i grew silent. "I told you not to!" He pounced on me. He took his hand and rubbed my make-up off, leaving red streaks behind. He did not do it gently, i never imagined him to take it into his own hands like that.
Hours passed, we decided to play a board game. It was that game where you guess what the other players favorite things are. It was fun. I did something he didn't like and he twisted my arm. He had done it before, but this time, this time was different. He twisted my arm around my back, it probably looked unnatrual, it felt awful. I screamed. I told him to stop. I thought my arm was about to break. He finally stopped after that, he looked at me with his big blue eyes like he was saying, "I'll make it better. Trust me." I always fall for it. He's got a way of making ever situation better. even if he was almost at the point of breaking my arm.
I told my mom i didn't think he'd do it again.
I was wrong.. he did. "Sweetheart!" my mom would say. i've heard that shocked tone before but i'm always shocked to hear it. "Is that a bruise on your leg?" i then looked at my leg. A purple mark lay plastered on my skin. I shrugged and kept staring at it, thinking it'd fade away if i kept doing it.
"You could at least do something nice for me, for once!" he yelled. I cried. And cried.
I did everything for him. He then made it better. "I'm sorry i am such a horrible, ugly person to make you 'feel' that way. I am a terrible person, aren't i?" i always caught a glimmer of sarcasim in his apologys.
This week, i'm the one saying sorry. always. It's his favorite word to hear.
I'm sorry i'm wearing make-up, i'm sorry that i said that, i'm sorry i didn't hear you.
"you better be," he would reply.
He stood by me, the yellow of buses in the corner of my eye. I see a group of my friends, best friend in the middle. She stares at me. I look away fast. I miss her. He looks in her direction and then back at me. "Were you looking at her?"
I shake my head.
"I don't see why you have friends, all your time should be for me." he hugged me and i just wanted to be there forever. I felt like crying, but i didn't. "I got rid of mine for you, you should do the same for me."
I remember telling her about him. She warned me this would happen.
Is this my fault that i didn't listen?
One time, i got the balls to confront him. "Um, love?" i began. "I don't think we are right."
"what do you mean?" he says. I can't do this. I can't do this.
"we stress each other out, we always do mean things to each other."
"But we love each other, doesn't that matter?"
I paused. "Yeah, but is it good enough?"
"I'm about to jump," he said. My eyes grew bigger.
"Please don't! i'm sorry! I really am! it won't ever happen again! ever! just don't jump!" i said. i could never ever lose him. ever.
We walk around, our hands held together are so sweaty, but i love it. I've learned to tell myself that things will change. I'm being melodramatic by telling my therapist. she's saying, "He's showing the signs of abuse."
She gives me this paper. It has a circle on it, it's black and white. It's labeled, "The circle of an abusive relationship."
I read through it, suprised at how much it seems familiar. Every word i read seems like it's talking about him, i try to pretend it's not. Is this my fault? Is it? "I don't love an abusive boyfriend," i say. I sound so certain, but in my heart, everything is shattering. It's hard to breathe.
"It's not always considered," she said. "I'm just labeling."
I'm exaggerating. I'm just wrong. Just another reason to say, "i'm sorry." A daily vocab word of mine.
I use it every day.
I wake up. I'm his masterpiece.
He paints me, i stand there, i am fragile compared to him. He breaks his things. I cry. It's life. I protect him. I comfert him. I apologize. I take up the space his mother left. He makes me think he is so tough, i look at those bruises covering my legs, but i know him. I know him inside out. He is weak. But i want him to be strong. He is everything. He's the sky, the ground, my heart, my mind.
But my mind is beating me up.
Is this my fault?