Have you ever felt like you held someone’s life in your hands? That you were the reason that someone might die? Not even metophorically, but literally, the life of someone is in your hands. That’s what an abusive relationship feels like. You see, you don’t have to be a victim in an abusive relationship to suffer. That’s what people don’t tell you.

In 9th grade I met a girl whom I eventually started my first relationship with. At the time, I was never popular. I was never physically fit. I was never that smart. All I had going for me was a lackadasical attitude towards obligations, and a witty, sarcastic personality that allowed me to comfortably converse with people no matter the societal differences. So when I found out that this girl liked me, I didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger and make a move. That initial decision led to a series of events that changed not just my outlook on life, but how I continued to live my life afterwords.

As the relationship moved on, I discovered who this girl really was. A damaged soul, begging to be helped. From bullies to mental illnesses to self harm, this girl was what others would label as a project. But I didn’t see her that way. I only wanted to help. I dedicated myself to this girl. Months went by, with countless nights spent crying myself to sleep only to wake up to the same nightmare. I learned over the course of these months just exactly what the causes were that made this young soul so damaged. A father who never loved. Past lovers that did unspeakable things. Battles in her mind that waged on for years. I tried my best to make sure she was always happy. Unfortunately, I found out afterwords how truly unhappy she was. This relationship, my first relationship, was one year and five months of ruthless war with this girl’s demons. I fought them myself to make sure that she didn’t have to. It wasnt until about fifteen months into the relationship, when I realized what was happening. I was becoming becoming her.

I was so young, so naive, and yet I was trying to shoulder the burdens of someone else. Burdens that I had never experienced myself. I wanted to make sure she could live the life she always wanted, yet all she wanted, was to die. That thought takes its toll. Knowing that one argument, one stupid joke, one misunderstood phrase could result in the death of a girl and the blood would be on my hands. The lingering guilt of not being able to save her. Of seeing all the signs and trying so hard and not being able to do anything in the end. I could feel myself slipping into the same void that had consumed her.

I knew that I had to make a choice. Do my best to save the presumably unsavable. Or try to save myself while I still had the time. So I made the toughest decision of my life. I tried, I really tried. But I realized that there was only so much that I could give this girl, my first girlfriend, my first real deep love. I did my best to give her the seeds to start a healthier, happier life.

On Columbus Day weekend, I wasn’t even sixteen, and I made a decision that forever changed me and taught me two things. One: No matter how hard you try, some things just can’t happen. That’s not pessimism, that’s just reality. And Two: Do what makes you happiest. Because in the long haul, you are your own person and you need to look out for yourself before anyone else.