Almost a year. Almost an entire year since your lips have been on my neck, attacking the fragile skin with your firm and hot kisses. Sweaty and sticky skin pressing against my own. Your legs tangled up in mine as your hand slipped underneath my shirt and pinching at my sensitive breasts. Overall I can barely rememeber the event. All I remember are the moments afterwards. Walking home felt like a chore, picking up my feet as I could barely wrap my head around what had even happened. You took away my sense of security, my own pride. I can still feel it. Your hands holding me down while your breath brushed against my ears, coaxing me into just "letting it happen." I could not let it just happen. I was not ready. No amount of speaking on the matter before hand could have prepared me for the anxiety inducing hour or so you kept me in that room with you. I can remember standing afterwards, telling you I wanted to go home. You followed suit, determined that I get there safely as you always had. I never told you that having you follow me was the worst feeling. Having you follow after me felt like you were just looming, looking to use me again just as you had before. Hands down my pants and another holding my hand to my side as I tried to breathe and tell myself that it would be better if I let it just happen. No, I was still arguing for some reason. I went into shock, fight or flight. But instead of either I just watched your every move with my legs trembling. Walking down that road that afternoon was long. My hair was a mess from the steamy room I had just been in. Noone had ever touched me like that before, and never again has this occured.
I remember telling you no, why wouldn't you listen? If you had only listened to me and stopped for a second to think with your head instead of your dick, we both would not have to endure these memories. I would not be here sobbing still, begging for any God to let me apologize because this was my fault. For six fucking months, I sobbed because this had to be my fault. This had to be something that I had made you think was right. While your dick was in your now girlfriend, I was in my bed clinging to the fact that I had ruined my own life.
Now that it has been a year I have had time to sit back and think. Yes, if you are reading this, I am still very much hurting. I am absolutely pissed still, wondering why either of us let this happen and ruin what we had. If you think about it, this was for the best. I am glad that we parted ways romantically. Our relationship was toxic, which was equal on both of our parts. I did many things wrong, as did you. Regret still aches in my chest because of what we went through in that year and a half or so that we loved one another. It never hit until afterwards that I never said that I loved you enough. To that I am sorry. I never told you how scared of love I was, and I pushed you away with every single thing I could think of to try and make you not love me anymore. That was toxic. You should not have had to put up with me.
These things do not make what you did right. We both know this. I hope you can read this one day and know it is about you. Take my sorry for granted, or don't take it at all. Either way I mean it. I am truly sorry. You were my first love and my first heartbreak. Thank you.
Fuck you at the same time. Rage fills my being every time I walk by or drive by your house to get to work or school. I wish that this never happened. That we never existed so my heart would not be as broken as it is.
This story is just a collection of my thoughts really. I have not let them out in a long time and I am at a breaking point.
Thank you for reading, kind strangers.
