I wanted to love you, more than anything. I wanted to be the teachers wife, a shining example of community involvement and loving support. I wanted to be the girl in our 1950’s daydreams of what a future could look like.
But my gut wouldn’t let me.
I should thank you for that. For the lesson that going further than you want to, making choices for another person, ignoring the calling in your heart only hurts you. It’s an important lesson to learn, and I am thankful that I did- because it changed everything.
You made dumba** choices. Not just with the teenager that landed you in jail (that would have been and should have been prison, if they hadn’t lessened the charges), but with me too. You squandered my spirit in the guise of love, played the hero while picking me apart, and became the closest thing to an abuser I’ve ever had.
No, you did not hit me.
No, you did not rape me.
No, you did not scream, yell, or throw things.
But it wasn’t what is was supposed to be. And I knew that. So I walked away.
You gave me something else too- sympathy and empathy for the women and men who can’t walk away, for those who can’t escape, for those who die before they hit a breaking point. I had the spark in me, that you never got to see- it kept me warm, and safe, and pushed me out before the police arrived at your classroom door. Not everyone has that- not everyone has BookBoy and BigBrother to highlight the difference in love and support and disenchantment, or a voice to say no.
You will accuse me of being a hateful bi*ch, of having the situation wrong, of victim blaming you. That’s okay with me. You can call me a mess, unkempt, a girl who wouldn’t get contacts for you. I’m okay with that too.
You see, I’ve managed to find love after you. In glasses. And pants. And saying “no” when I’m not into something. All without a grown man pitching a hissy fit.
So thank you.
Never yours- Sarah Mae