SEQUEL: to You're So Golden
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Harry's gentle hand rests on my hip as he drags the soft warm cloth against my stained skin with his other hand. I look down in between us and watch closely as the red liquid drips down to our feet and seeps into the...
Are we still friends? Can we be friends? Are we still friends? I've got to Know
See each other (last spring) Shake your hand, say hi Long ago, long ago, long ago (spring)
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I am exhausted.
The past few days have given me terrible whiplash and on top of the constant snapping of my neck, my emotions proceeded to confuse me much more than I thought they ever could.
Ever since I finally spoke up about how I felt toward Marco with Harry, things have felt strange. Not necessarily because of the way he's treated me because nothing much has changed, I'm just confused as to why I spoke up about it in the first place.
It all happened so fast, being honest about something I was always too afraid to even think about admitting. But I didn't do it because I wasn't sure, I did it because the guilt I had for it was killing me.
These past few months, years even, I've barely come to terms with one thing that's happened. I don't process, I just accept and move on. But for some reason, I couldn't figure out why I needed to process what happened between me and Marco. I couldn't push it down and pretend it didn't happen, I needed to acknowledge what happened.
The feelings I shared with Harry weren't shared to hurt him. I guess, if anything, I wanted to be clear if he thought I was terrible for the friendship I shared with Marco. Regardless of whether or not it was forced, I felt guilt I befriended someone who did things so terrible. It didn't feel right. None of it did. I felt terrible.
After the conversation I had with Marco, well, the conversation he had with me, I realized he assumed I was never his real friend. I think he thought I was only his friend because I had no choice. I understand why he'd think that, but it wasn't entirely true.
Sure, my father did force me into a friendship with him. Was I happy about it in the beginning? No, I was livid. I wanted nothing more but to never speak to him again after what happened to Ashton. I didn't care about me, I cared about the fact he tried to take away someone who meant the world to me.
Marco had his reasons for doing what he did, I know. And maybe because I knew he was protecting his daughter, it made it easier for me to accept what happened. But the longer I was with him, and the longer I was away from Harry and Ashton, all that guilt in my head started to slip away.
He was my friend.
I forgave him. I never said the words. I never told him I forgave him, but I knew in my heart, I forgave him for what he did to me. And at that moment, the guilt sank in. The minute I started forgiving Marco, that was the moment I started hating myself.
