Sometimes I'll be sitting on a bench that smells like shit and I'll remember your face. Remember how I dressed for you, smelled good for you, talked in a higher pitched voice for you. Was a complete idiot for you. The list goes on, but I'm happy about it. Truly, I am. I learned so much about myself and my "in love" self that it's almost to much to bare (ha, not really). I learned how I should be treated, or rather, not be treated. I learned that when someone hides you from their friends, they really dont like you, no matter how many coats of 99 cent lipgloss you've got on. Ive grown. Truly, I have. I guess my constant reassurance of growth is one that you've instilled in me. One of "they'll never really believe you" or "they'll never take you seriously." After you I turned to others, they smelled weird and their touch felt like that weird uncle at that bbq back in 2003. but at the end of the night I would lay awake and see your fucking face. Again. The face that lit a fire inside the depths of my legs. The face that I so badly wanted to see wrinkle and fall apart year after year. It's been seven years since I saw you. Seven. And I cant remember for the life of me what loving you felt like. I can remember the excitement, the hours of me getting pretty just for you, the Thanksgiving's and christmases I missed for you; but that fire, that desire so etched into my being, well I can't remember that. At one point I could of bet everything on that feeling never leaving my body. It was like a weird high, or that one dream where your naked but look awesome and you couldnt be happier. As bad as I may want to at times, and as hard as I try, I can't. I can't remember. I of course still remember your cologne, and the texture of that God awful hair gel you used, but i cant remember you. Is it a gift? A curse? Who knows. But for now I'll go about my early 20s as any other heartbroken (not really anymore) millennial, I'll sit down to eat my crusty ramen and I'll remember you. I'll remember the years I wasted on you when I could of been in school. I'll remember how weird and judgmental your family was. I'll remember how much of a trainwreck your mom was after the divorce. I'll also remember how stupid your mom was, and how she fucked your friends. I'll remember how you looked up to your loser older brother that abandoned the army and never saw his daughter. I'll remember how you just wanted me around for weed. I'll remember how your unwashed sweat pants smelt like bad chinese food, and how you thought it was so cool to rap that one biggie smalls song. I'll remember how I was always "just alittle" to over weight for your personal standards. I'll remember how you insisted that you could never marry me, because well of course, there just might be someone better out there. I'll remember your drunk mom saying "everything's going to be ok" and "isn't my son fucking hot" while she was pouring her last glass of box wine she got from walmart while scrolling her (very active if I might add), plenty of fish page. I'll remember how broken you became after your dad left. How you'd sit in your bathroom and pretend talk to him. I'll remember how incredible it felt when you'd finally touch me and told me you loved me and how I felt so dignified in it all, no matter what you said before. I'll remember that no matter how many tears and bullshit love letters I wrote, you would never love me. Never.
No matter how much money i spent at the movies buying that disgusting popcorn topper you just had to have, no matter how many flowers I bought that made your eyes swell up because of course,
you were allergic. You couldn't love me. You just couldn't, and I guess that wasnt your fault. It was mine for believeing. How did I love you to begin with? You wasted my teenage years and I should of realized how scummy and tacky your whole family was and ran the other way and never turned back. But I can't get that time back. Even now I smack my self in the head and feel as if I was under some voodoo spell, because I'm in reality, you sucked.
But I do have something to thank you for. After all those years of seconding guessing myself I found my true love after all. I found happiness. At some point I guess my rage will turn to fondness and I'll look back on all the "dear old" memories that made me the person i am today. Or I won't, either way, fuck you.
Yours,
A truly (bitter) bitch
