When I think of your name, I get a horrible feeling within my stomach. It rises into my chest, enveloping my soul, constricting my lungs. It is though I have been told the horrible news over and over again. I never understood what people meant when they’ve lived a moment within their every moment on this earth. Just when I think my day is going well, or fine, I get this petrifying memory within my mind.
You were silent on the whole car ride home, I knew something was wrong. You kept looking back at me smiling, that kind of smile that you get when you are trying to make something better. It’s the kind of smile that a mom gives to her child when no one comes to their party. They try to make it better and make it festive, but all the child can think about is the empty seats at their table, how there is no cake. I had to start the conversation, I think that is perhaps what made it so horribly painful. I cannot imagine you letting me stay that whole weekend at your house and then delivering the most horrible news of my life. I think perhaps it was so jarring because despite all of the violence that I had witnessed in my childhood, this was what hurt so horribly. I saw a man get shot right before me, and yet the swift words of “I don’t know what I want with you” made my eyes glaze over in disbelief and horror.
It’s funny, it’s not that you waited until we made the 45 minute drive to your home, or that I had to initiate and conclude and decide for you that you didn’t want to be with me, or that you ruined your sister’s birthday weekend, it is the fact that you said we could be friends. It is how you ripped me away from any semblance of family the I ever had. You cried in front of me, and I didn’t shed a tear. I told you to give me back my books, to not even attempt to contact me. I hope that your heart feels the pain of a thousand lifetimes, I hope that your heart feels so heavy that it feels hard to breathe like mine does. But knowing you, I was just another one of your wh*res. Thanks E, thanks for no breath.