jessabow

[jessabow]

New York, New York.

     It was Tuesday afternoon, summer had finally exploded over small-town Kansas, I was 29 years old. I can remember sitting on my parent's front porch, listening to them argue over my latest career blunder. I was so tired- tired of the heat, tired of disappointing them, tired of ending back up on this porch and tired of this town. There was no way they were going to let me come home this time. I can’t say I really would have blamed them either, who wants their 29 year old daughter back in her highschool bedroom for the 8th time since she first moved out. I would surely want my own freedom finally if I were them.

      Mom pushed open the screen door with so much force the hinge snapped and the door started swaying with the breeze. I can remember the sound of her sigh when she sat next to me; like I had just shattered her heart into a thousand and one pieces. I knew at that moment before she even spoke, I needed to remove my failure from her life. She deserved to have one child who could get life right. My brother was already the town drunk. When mom and dad had me, they told everyone, I was going to be something. I was something alright; a joke. So I decided to leave, leave the porch before she could shoot her frustration into my soul, leave this town before it sucked me dry of any potential I possibly had left, leave my own self-doubt on a runway and go. 

     “Mom, you don't need to say it, I already know. Dads not going to let me come back again. I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be going for a while. I'll call when I get some roots planted somewhere. I'm going to do something good; I promise.” I remember trembling as I said it to her. I stood up and walked away. She didn't even respond, I don't know if it was shock, or more anger with me that kept her silent. I was grateful she didn't chase me down though. I got in my car and drove to the airport. There was an upside to not having a steady place to live for the last three years, I had learned to pack lightly at all times. I walked through those sliding glass doors with all I owned and nothing tying me here. 

     Luckily my credit card had not been maxed out yet, so I was set to buy a plane ticket and I would figure the rest out when I landed. I just had to figure out where to go. If I put too much thought into it, I felt like I would be setting myself up for failure, so I let fate and the lady behind the counter decide. Tracey, who was probably in her late 40′s smiled at me and asked me where I was traveling to today. “Tracey,” I said, “I have failed at almost everything I've tried here, my parents can't stand to look at me anymore and its time I try somewhere else. I want you to do me a favor, sell me a ticket to the farthest destination that's flying today.” Tracey looked at me with wide, floating eyes and then clicked some buttons on her computer. Tracey was very clearly trained to sell and not ask questions. Today I appreciated this trait. 

       “I have a 2:15 flight to New York, that's the farthest today and boards in about ten minutes ma’am” Tracey didn't even blink when she spewed that information at me. I could seriously have hugged her right then! It is refreshing to not be judged on every decision, to not have to answer a thousand questions or explain what you're doing with your life. 

     “How much is that going to run me today?” I can remember being almost giddy when I asked. 

     “$450 round, $275 one way, Which will it be?” Tracey was eager to seal the deal, you could hear it in her voice. I booked a one way and walked to board a flight I hoped would lead me to my future. 

       That's how I ended up here, being a column writer, and writing this silly paper on where I started. You see, what I had failed at didn't matter, all that matters about where I started is that one day I decided to change. I struggled when I first got to New York, but being somewhere with no one to fall back on when I fell pushed me to stand up again for myself every time. I called my parents after three months on the job, I had paid for 6 months rent in a tiny apartment and offered to send home some money and copies of papers I was in. My mother gushed on the phone over my accomplishments and thanked me for finally figuring out I could do this. Three years into the job I bought my first house, flew home to see my parents and paid off their home for them. 

       The moral to this story is, you can pull yourself out of any type of “failure”. It doesn’t matter who doubts you, even if you doubt yourself, some times a small step into the unknown, or a plane ride to the farthest destination that day can lead you to be the person you were meant to be. You just have to step out of the details, step away from the judgment from yourself and others; and re-learn to walk so that you can run. I promise you, the worst that can happen, is you can fall; you can also get back up. 

                                                                           - Torrence Lynn, New York Times

[jessabow]

Lucille

     I am sitting at the vanity, my eyes squinting and hand trembling as I try to steady the brush. I can hear her whispering to me that I need to wet the bristles. I dip the hairs into my small glass dish of rose water, twist the bristles to a fine point and dip back into the jar of black clay. My vision is not the best these days, my fingers struggle to hold the tiny arm of my brush, my wrists scream in frustration and pain, I just need to finish this line and then dress. Lucille always told me with a little eyeliner and red lipstick on my fair skin, I polished into the finest china she had ever seen. As I'm stepping into her itchy emerald dress, I can hear her giggling, softly, from behind me. I've learned not to turn around.             The kettle is starting to hiss at me from the burner in the kitchen. I quickly zip and fluff out the skirt on the dress. With a fast glance in the mirror, her smirk greets me in the reflection. My face sags and wrinkles, my arms covered in browning age spots, blue veins luminate my skin, time has gotten the best of me. I run my fingers through my ash grey hair, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her lotion on my arms. The kettle is at full roar now, so I run to the kitchen to pull it away from the fire. Steaming liquid flows from the kettle into our glass teapot, two teaspoons of earl gray already resting inside. This concoction will need to steep for five minutes, I set a timer and change task                                   As I set the table, I can hear her humming Over the Rainbow quietly. Shaking as I go, placing two rose plates, two white teacups, a small dish of sugar cubes and a gravy bowl full of cream. Nothing we own matches, everything collected along the way, like she collected me. One-piece at a time. I light three amber and musk-scented tea lights and prop up her picture against her chair, still pushed into the table. Tea timer dings, I grab the pot and pour us each a cup. Two cubes, no cream, Lucille. One cube, Half cream for me. I sit. I stare into her eyes, black and white in the photograph piercing into me. The house is silent, her voice long gone, her laugh only a melody in my head, her smirk a burned image in my retinas. Lucille had been gone 15 years now, though I never stopped sharing Spring’s first tea with her.       15 years I have marked a date, painted my face, and put on her dress in an attempt to feel her embrace. Each year, same as this one, I have sipped and talked and imagined the sweet voice of the woman I gave my heart to. I tell her how my husband is, how her kids are, what adventures I have found myself tangled in. I whisper wishes and fantasies to her perfectly smiling image forever encased in my photo frame. That we would have stopped hiding, given up the mirage of normal lives, lived in this home together. I imagine her slender, smooth-skinned, glowing and grinning wrapped in my arms. When the tea is cold and candle flame dying, I carry her picture back to its home on the shelf in my dressing room.                                                                                                               I wash my dishes and my face. I return her dress to its bag in my closet. I put back on my everyday clothes and start dinner, in time for my husband to walk in the door. I honor Lucille by keeping our tea hidden, like our love. As I slide a dish into the oven, I feel her hand on my shoulder very faint. I close the oven, the last hint of her lotion radiating in the air, the ghost of her memory descending; to rest another year.

[jessabow]

Jason’s Clock

 Seconds. Seconds become minutes, minutes become years and years stack up a lot faster then you would assume. There was a time in my life when I resented the clock for always running. Constantly in the distance with its uniform "tick, tick, tick.." Today, I am left longing for the time when I moved with it, in a steady direction,                                       forward.     It was March 18th, 1956 and I was in the middle of the last day of my senior year when I began to nod off in study hall. For the life of me I could not figure out why they would enforce a study hall on the last day of school, there was no work to be done and everyone was ready for the carnival the school was hosting for our graduating class. My eyes fought to stay open during the first half-hour of the class, but sleep must have won, although this was like no nap I had ever had before. When I opened my eyes to the bell, I wasn't in a classroom at all. I was in a closet, looking into a bedroom. I have been known to sleepwalk before, but why would no one have stopped me? How could I have gotten into someone's home unnoticed? Their alarm was going off, 8am, I slept through the whole night?     Trying to grasp for my surroundings, I try to figure out whose house I'm in, two bodies nestled in the bed, amber hair and pale skin poking out from underneath navy blue bedding. This couple is going to wake up to get ready, and they are going to find me in their closet. I will have to find a way to explain.     The man slaps the alarm clock to kill the chiming, stretches and sits up. My heart stops and my jaw falls when I realize I am looking at myself across the room. I'm dreaming, that's what this is. Somehow I have fallen into such a deep sleep that this dream feels incredibly real, that's the only explanation for this. I steady my breath, if this is a dream, they won't see me, they won't know I'm here, I relax. I watch myself get out of bed and check a calendar pinned to the wall. There is a red X over the date I touch, May 19th, 1960. I watch myself look around, check to see if the other body in the bed has stirred, and when everything is still, I watch myself walk to the closet.      Unafraid of being caught, because clearly, I am just dreaming of my future, which is not weird to do on the last day of high school, I don't even flinch when dream me opens the door. I expect that I will grab some clothes and dress, wake, who I can only presume is my wife, and ready myself for breakfast. Instead, when dream me pulls open the door, he looks directly at me. He does not seem to be afraid, so he must be looking through me.             “Jason, I can see you. You are not dreaming, this is not the first time you will do this, nor is it the last. Do not let this scare you."          Dream me is talking to me, which means he can see me, and he says this is not a dream. My brain refuses to process what he is saying and I can feel the dumbfounded look on my face.       "In about 60 seconds, you will open your eyes on your wedding day, you will not know the lady who stands before you, but you need to marry her at that moment, Jason. I have seen the future where you panic, and say no, and Jason.." He pauses, looks over his shoulder, shudders, then looks back to me, "That's not a place you want to have to see."       I am so confused, but I must be waking up because I can feel my fingers and arms start to tingle. I hear the bell clanging, my eyes jolt open and- a beautiful girl stands before me smiling. Her hair is wisped fire, and her eyes are a golden coffee cream. She is in an ivory dress, holding a bouquet, and whispers that it is my turn.       Today is March 18th, 2006, I have seen my life in flashes, sometimes in the future, and sometimes in the past, for 50 years now. I have kept a journal of every moment, and I carry it in a bag on my back, always. I try to arrange the glimpses into chronological order. My first travel, the carnival, the day I married June, the day Christopher was born, when my parents died, Christopher marrying, June passing away…      I have fifty years of seconds, that turn to minutes, that disappear. Some days I meet myself in the jump, and we speak in whispers, about what I must do next, or I warn myself what I must not do. I so long to know every moment of my life, in the order that it existed, maybe one day I will have all the pieces to complete the line. My eyes are getting heavy, and I can feel this room disappearing around me, I prepare to jump.     It is March 18th, 1956 again. I am shuffling towards my study hall class, only my hands are aged and I am in slacks. I do not remember meeting myself before my first jump that day. I open the door and ask for Jason to please come to the hall. I watch myself stand, grab my belongings and walk towards the door. This doesn't make sense, I have never gone back to before the first time before. Young Jason meets me in the hallway, I see him scanning my face to figure out who I am. Instinctively I reach for young Jason's hands, although my current hands are 50 years aged, they still feel like the young man's hands they now hold.     "Don't fall asleep in this class Jason. I don't know how it works, but if you do, your life will never move steadily in one direction ever again." I drop his hands and walk away. Young Jason laughs and walks into class, assuming this was a last day hurrah from a mate. Suddenly I can feel myself thinning. Thinning into time, into the seconds, into the air.      I sit down again as the class is being dismissed. I walk into the hallway with my friends and Judy, a teacher's aid from another room bumps into me, hard. I help her pick up her supplies and walk her to her car to pack them. She asks me if I would like to go to the carnival with her after the final bell, I had never imagined she would notice me, being a freshman in college and working in the school. Something in my gut tells me I have done this before, and when I tell her yes, I can see her, for a second; standing in a church, her amber hair like wisped fire, her eyes a coffee cream. Judy giggles at me and we walk back into the building and head our separate ways.      When I tell my friends about the date, I ask who sent the old man to mess with me, yet none of them know. We walk into last period, digging through my pack for a notebook I pull out a thick, leather journal I don't recognize. On the first page, there is a note.                   "If these pages are bare, you have succeeded.       Do not worry about what. Listen to the clock beating, moving, and write down every good thing about your days. Lucky, how seconds turn to minutes and minutes to years, and years stack up to make                                               a great story.                                  Best Wishes,                                                            A Friend".      A gift, an anonymous gift. I place it in the pack and decide not to take notes, but watch the clock tick, and tick; until the final bell rings.

[jessabow]

Another Me. May 21 2016

I know what you are feeling

That look, I’ve had it

You have fallen for him

You hang off of every word 

As if your life depends on it 

He sounds sweet,

Doesn't he?

But did you know he is a viper?

What’s more, did you know 

His mouth holds a poison 

That will sink into your blood and stay there

He will rot out pieces of yourself 

You didn't even know you have

Has he supplied you the promises yet?

They come in organized and lateral lists

To love you

To be faithful

To never hurt you

Followed by various versions of the three

So you

You smile, and your heart flip flops

It’s ok, I know, you love him

Those promises already lie Broken

Leaving you all the more

Strung up for it

“I wont talk to her” he will promise

Then {oops, sorry hang on, he just texted}

with a smile on his face

compassion in his eyes

He will say

“I haven't talked to her in months anyways!”

If I know you, if your anything like I was

And you are

You’ll believe him, Is there really any other choice?

He’s really good at predicting what you want to hear

So when he hisses out Forever

Like it wont be the only thing left 

In your head when he leaves

Remember

He will leave, he always does

Then slithers back for more when the lonely 

Of someone not quite you but almost

Kicks in and

He needs a bite of the real thing

A locked tank wont keep him in,

Monogamy has not been defined in his vocabulary

So you just suck down his words 

Knowing the body gets used to the taste of sour after awhile

And you can convince yourself into believing him 

Into being his only one, at least

In your head

So when he hisses I love you

Like the words wont need to be vacuumed out of your ears

When your left alone after years of hearing them 

Remember

I love you rolls off the tongue easy

When he has had years of practice saying it to 

Plenty of woman he didn't mean it for

When its over

Your gonna wish you could shed your skin

Like he seems to do

Sweetie, listen

I’ve been in those shoes

Don't let him make you another version of me

Another

Faithless casualty

[jessabow]

Mittens and Fire. 9/29/17

[jessabow]

328 days....     Feb.1.17

I'm trying to convince myself that when I write, It does not need to be poetry and line work and rhyming words or stanzas. It does not need to be pretty.. even just to mask the dark. It can just be this... words in sentences.. no extra thought into how it looks or how it reads. Not all emotions can be shared in the spoken word as poetry. Sometimes, the words just need to be.

It has been... Three hundred and twenty eight days since I have had my best friend in my arms. I don't generally look at time in the number of days, generally I try not to focus on time anymore... Because all of the X’s in my calendar became to depressing to keep track of, but I know that if I open it there will be one over every day for, I guess, the last 328 of them. The reason why I know that number know Is because at 322 some one shared that information with me.

328 days ago.... you did the dishes and I took a nap... because I was... doing that more often. Sleeping. Sleeping to avoid the feelings. Sleeping to avoid life. I was letting the depression and anxiety win again. I was letting it eat me. It was causing us to fight... a lot. You didn't understand, you where only trying to help and I was pushing you away for caring... something I was really, really good at. I can’t even tell you if I can count on one hand how many times I left you in the months before. You never took it... you fought tooth and nail for me and that both made me love you more but also aggravated the hell out of me. Just to be honest. I knew you were it for me though, that's why the “breaks” never lasted more than a day and more than once you had to pick me up, a drunken stupid mess, off of the floor and tell me it was ok and you weren't holding it against me so why should I get to hold it against myself? We always picked up like the fight never happened and I loved you for that.

I'm not sure I had a real reason.. 328 days ago, to be depressed or have the anxiety. Maybe it was the transitions happening in my life. I felt stuck, but also exactly where I wanted to be. I was happy but sometimes I wasn't sure. There was stress with the kids and with life and, I just couldn't handle all of it. So you did dishes and I took a nap. When you woke me up, to let me know you had... we will call it an errand to run... I was so... unconcerned. Rephrase. I was concerned but so wrapped up in my own little pit that I brushed it off at your words. I didn't even tell you I love you as you walked out the door. I didn't even get out of bed to hug you. I didn't even.

328 days ago.. you were supposed to be home, an hour at the latest. 328 days ago.. I thought that was the weakest I could ever feel. 328 days ago I thought that was also the strongest I could be. Boy was I wrong.

So you've been running your, errand, for three hundred and twenty eight days. The front door has not opened and been you. I have not felt you, or breathed in your scent, or watched you sleep, or watched you watch me pretend to sleep to see if you did that too... for 328 days. I just want you home. I just want my best friend. I just want to be able to stop being strong. I just want the depression to die and the anxiety to quit and the regret to stop eating me. Eating me alive. I just want to collapse in your arms and know its over. I had to pick myself up out of the pit. I had to fight every day. I stayed strong for you. But its getting harder. The tears come in swells now. I sleep, all day, unless you call. I stay in my pajamas.

Its just funny. 328 days ago I had you, and was falling apart. Now I'm falling apart because I need you and cant have you right now. Funny they say you don't know what you had til its gone. Atleast I didn't really have to lose you. Youll come home eventually.

I cant promise the depression or anxiety will go away but, it will never put a bridge between us again. You taught me without meaning to how strong I can be. How brave I can be. How independent I can be. I'm ready for the lesson to be over. I'm ready to not have to be all three of those all day every day anymore.

I just miss you. I yearn for you. I ache for you. Your my everything. Your my best friend. Your the man I'm going to marry. I'm losing my mind over here you know. losing my mind. The pieces are falling apart. I hope we near the end. Before I really do crumble.

[jessabow]

Late and Lost    Jan.14.17

Someone please remind me that I am worth the space I take. Someone please remind me that I am strong... and that I can do whatever I set my mind to.. and that it is sometimes ok to not be in control.. and that it will all be ok. Someone please remind me that, what ever happens is for a reason.. part of a bigger picture I cant see yet. Someone please remind me that I'm only 19 and its ok to not have all the answers.. that as long as I never give up, the world can never keep me down. Someone please remind me there is purpose and meaning and beautiful in all things that seem dark and scary and ugly. Someone please remind me to hold my own hand. My world as I know it is collapsing under my feet. The air getting thicker and thicker and harder to draw into my lungs. I don't know what to do and every thing is just spinning me father and farther into this pit. No, I am not suicidal. I am far from it. I just need reminded that one day ill wake up and look back on all this able to say.. I made it... because right now the steps seem to high to climb. The top of the hill to far away. This just continues to be an uphill battle and I just keep asking where is the peak. I'm hanging on to what is left of my strength which is a situation I can only compare to hanging from a rather large knife, fingertips digging into the tip of the blade, hoping you can ignore the pain so you don't fall. Someone tell me this will be over soon. Even if its a lie. Someone tell me a lie.. a good one... Someone tell me you need me even if you don't. Remind me I'm only a failure if I let myself be. Remind me I'm doing the best I can even if its not the best that could be done. Remind me its ok to ask for help, or to cry. To feel hurt and betrayed. Someone remind me, and then tell me to get off my ass when I'm done and keep the train moving. I'm trying so hard to remind myself.. but it sounds so shallow and hopeless coming out of my lips.

I don't know what else I could have done. I don't know how else I could of been. I do know I'm afraid. I'm afraid the world will win this time. I'm afraid theres nothing I can do. I'm afraid ill wake up alone... afraid people will be disappointed. What if this is the battle I cant win? What if this is the war I don't come home from? Its the not knowing that scares me the most, the not having control, the waiting. Again, this has nothing to do with wanting to die. In fact its quite the opposite. I want to live. I want to be happy. I want my life back to normal. Someone remind me that every storm ends with a rainbow. Someone remind me that even night turns into day. Someone remind me about a thing called patience... and trusting the people opening their arms for me. Someone remind me I'm not alone, and other people feel this way to. Someone tell me I'm not completely stupid for posting this. Someone tell me to shut up and go to bed.

I just need someone to tell me, tell me the answers, tell me what to do.. because I don't know anymore.

I just really don't know.

[jessabow]

Light House     Jan.9.17

                         I laid in your arms and just breathed

A soft sigh of relief escaped my lips

            You just looked at me,

                                         With your ocean eyes

Never blinking,

       Never pushing,

               Never rushing.

                             We laid contently for hours

                       Dozing into and out of momentary dreams

Confusing them with reality and the latter

        Your breath,

                     A summers breeze on my cheeks

Just the silence,

   It surrounded,

            Never alarmed

                            I just drifted in your arms

               Hands twisting and turning knots out of my back

A stern voice telling me to let go,

       Relax,

                 So I took both hands off the wheel and,

      Never looked back

Whispered words and finger kisses,

                  Promises, Id said everything there was to say

                                      Its to late now and,

                                         To selfish,

To admit I had lied,

            Spill all the words I kept inside,

                           The words I let the promise hide...

      My I love you meant so much more.

                    You the light house, mid storm

     Shining your light,

             Me,

                    A sinking ship searching relief

But I,

          Miss the light,

And drift to shore,

              Damaged by the weather but built strong to my core,

          Left staring at your stunning outline through the fog.

[jessabow]

What I told myself on my Birthday

October 30. 2015 - October 30. 2016

This year has been a big ball of stress and crazy. So many weak moments and doubts. Generous amounts of sadness and pain. Although it also had its little seconds... Miracles, happiness, smiles and laughs. Self growth and joined growth.

We did something this year even we thought we couldn't do. We survived. Barely. Holding onto the tiniest ropes. We did it. We learned.

Conquered fears and climbed mountains. Found God and started a journey. Got older. Voted for the very first time. Loved stronger than ever before.

Realized we are not in control, nor are we always right. Shaved our head, because it felt good. Developed confidence in our body and size. Fixed things we didn't think we could change.

This year we kicked ass and took names. We also developed this weird habit of referring to ourselves as we or us... whatever though!

Welcome to Adulthood, Happy 19th birthday to yourself. I cant believe how much we have changed and grown. Proud of us.

Love,

       You at 19

[jessabow]

Talking to Ghosts   Nov.22.16

I used to dream, we would sit at this table to eat. Me across from you. The walls would turn green and abandoned looking. The paper would start to peel off of them revealing cracks and holes that had just been covered up. The table starts to stretch out pulling you yards away from me at a progressing rate. I always would hesitate… Deciding between jumping on the table and running after you or remaining in my seat. I always woke up before the decision. So today is confusing, as I make the conscious decision to go see you, after three years. Three whole years. Im sitting in my car and trying to imagine your features but its all to blurry. In my head trying to envision different out comes and conversations, wanting to be able to predict how this is going to go. My heart is in my stomach and this nauseous feeling is setting in. Im to close to turn back now. I want to seem brave but inside im terrified. Stepping out of the car and your back is to me. I have a million different feelings on my chest right now. Every step I take closer to you makes my body feel 100 pounds heavier. The gravity of the situation is enough to bring me to my knees but I refuse to bend infront of you. Before I realize we are face to face. Those eyes. So familiar yet there is nothing to familiar about them at all. I used to build imaginary monuments around you and now.. I just don’t see it anymore. My name sounds foreign coming off your tongue. Though I can remember when that used to be music. There are no good words to explain the conversation, when your talking to a ghost. The past comes up and burns, like acid. There isn’t alot we know about these new people we have become. Everything feels half. Half here and half unknown. Theres both nothing but maybe something reminiscent in your touch. The sparks go off but dont quite reach the stars. My skin doesn't remember your hands anymore. When you laugh all the memories hit me. I can remember why I fell in love with you all those years ago. Though your body language and scanning eyes remind me of our demise and the open wounds we could never heal. Just two ghost talking, questioning, remembering. Conversations that lead us in circles and up hill and around tennis courts. Trail less whispers recalling the fire that dies burried in snow when only the breeze remained and we were gone with it. As you close the car door for me I watch this.. Half materialized ghost disappear into the distance. I go home. Lay in my bed and think.. We cant build a new bridge out of old material, that path would only cause us both to sink. We both have our hearts anchored in these new places and today our tides just crossed. I think about that dream. I think about the past. There is this comfortable feeling wrapped around them now. This soft lull. I wonder what went through your head when you saw me. Did your knees get weak? Did your stomach turn? What was the first thing that crossed your mind? Is there anger tied up in your memory of me? What was the goal? Where do the intentions lay with you? Your still this big puzzle to me though I know so much of you so well. I wonder if I am going to get burned in the end of all this…. Ive been playing Blue October all day. Reminiscing on the parts of our lives that made us ghosts to each other. Id listen to Eminem if I wanted to remember the bad days. Maybe this time we really try to forgive each other. So no one has to run anymore. I can remember when I could navigate your mind without a map. When your eyes would open doors for me and I could write about them for hours. Enough so that there is a whole books worth of material based on my life with you. I guess I can add this to the stack. You have never read a single line. I wonder if maybe your head is spinning just like mine. What kind of ride did we just jump on? Where is my head? Do you feel like fall? Do you feel at all? I can never tell anymore In this situation, I can never win. .

[jessabow]

What It Feels Like to Be in a Abusive Relationship

He looked like fire burning on snow when I met him. He looked, impossible. He was so much older than me and maybe that’s why I was attracted to him. That first time he kissed me I melted. I spent three years of my life trying to be everything he wanted, convinced he was everything I needed. 

He was abusive sometimes. He cheated on me right in my face. He was… a challenge. An image of the guy I had dreamt up for myself (When he wasnt hitting me or sleeping around) and I couldn’t give up on him. There was never a dull moment and he was the perfect distraction for everything else going on in my life. Maybe that’s why I loved him. 

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