The anger is growing inside of me everyday. I’m afraid of losing my temper. I don’t want to surrender. I’m afraid of losing my loved ones. I don’t want to leave their side. I’m afraid of experiencing failure. I don’t want to be knocked down and unable to get back up again. I’m afraid of you.
It is the failure of a single relationship that ripped me of everything. A thousand something words that I never managed to say to you are like dead fireflies in the mason jar. The grief flows through the veins like a waterfall. My body cannot function properly.
To end this fight, must I raise the white flag? All I wish is to flee from this catastrophe of corruption. I wish for peace and wish for freedom. I wish for a life that never stops being beautiful.
After we parted, I remembered the very beginning of our relationship. You wanted something to love. It was then that I offered every piece of me from my heart to my soul to my body. You took everything in a careless manner. And now, your fingerprints were everywhere and everything valuable was missing.
During the interrogation, I thought to myself. How long have you planned this? Where did you find the courage to leave me? A woman without regrets. She was supposed to be strong and confident. Instead, she’s the same fragile thing that cries too easily. Gosh, can someone explain why everything has to be a crime scene? I’m so sick of facing traumatic events.
The Traitor was You
I have experienced far too many betrayals. There is a hurricane inside of me that feels like a hallucination. I took careful measures to make sure I would never hit rock bottom, but here I am. What a shame. It was too late for me to realize that you were the one who stabbed me in the back.
I want to wake up in the morning and dream away all of the moments we spent together. I don’t want to remember you nor hear someone mention your name. I wish I listened to the ones who told me to end our relationship. The words, “I wish I never met you” play through my mind like a broken record. The sadness makes it out of my body in an empty scream.
Soon, it is replaced with rage. Red. That’s correct—red is the color associated with the anger I feel towards you. My own eyes can’t bear the red rage that paints me in the ugliest shade of mankind. You changed me. I could no longer recognize who I was before meeting you.
At some point in the future, I will meet more people. Ones that communicate with me. Ones that check up on my health from time to time. Those friends can teach me how to trust and be true to myself. Until then I am a band aid, a band aid that needs more ointment. After all, the pain is temporary.
“The Reason Why Girls Mature Faster than Boys”
“Dad, I hear these words everyday. Am I not an adult? Can’t I have some freedom?” Freedom? Young lady, I gave you permission to go to that party and this is how you repay me.” “It’s not my fault I-.” “Stop shifting the blame. He was a foolish boy. Forgive him, Madison.”
Right. For him, it was a silly mistake. A misunderstanding that will not be cleared. For me, my mind shook like that one earthquake I felt back then, that time, I was eleven. Fear. Anxiety. My emotions took control of the situation.
That Saturday night, I swallowed the “no” in my mouth with the rest of my resentment. Boys will be boys, but girls must be good. No matter the number of times we put up our boundaries, men will trespass them and crush our innocence into tiny shards that we cannot piece back together. There is humiliation seeping out of my wounds, but I am used to the bleeding. As you can see, good girls don’t win. I am a good girl even if I did not choose to be one and for that particular reason, I lose every single time.
“Dad, I’m tired of this conversation. You can choose to believe whoever you want. I will admit that I’m a girl, however, I am not a liar. The wise men often confuse the two and say those things are one and mean the same.”
“The Reason Why Girls Mature Slower than Boys”
“I’m coming back soon. Lately, I’ve been hearing strange things. The Madison I know would never commit such sins. At least, not without me by her side. Sorry, I haven’t responded to prior letters. I’m here now. Stay strong, I’m on my way.”
You’ve turned seventeen this year and I’ll turn twenty in April. I won’t inform you of the fairy tales of being eighteen, because there were none. There will be times where we cherish our parents too much and in the next moment, we believe that they’re too controlling. You will make countless mistakes and enter the 18th year of your life with a huge stack of regret as well as sorrow. You will view the world as a victim, not an immature girl. Hanging on the edge of childhood, you’re a child, but you don’t feel like one. I won’t criticize you for being young, but keep this in mind. You haven’t seen the world enough. It might seem that you, young lady, are doing everything wrong, but you’re not.
“Oh, Madison. You are a captivating girl with great, unlimited dreams. The path in front of you will continue to widen. I want to see you happy.”