You would think that all the BS that’s involved him would be over now but here we are.
I can only imagine what I would have done if the results were different; I don’t think anyone really understands the severity of a situation like that until you’re in it. You think to yourself, ‘that would never be me, I’m smart’ or ‘the chances are way too low’. But it can happen, it does happen–and it’s absolutely terrifying.
You subconsciously cover your stomach while you talk, absentmindedly tracing your fingers and praying that you won’t feel a nudge. It doesn’t really hit you until you hear something, or see something and suddenly the whole word falls on top of your chest. Your vision is blurred because tears are clouding your now fragmented clarity, the tremor of you hands seem to rattle the entirety of your body.
You realize you have to tell him. You have to make it known that something could be very wrong–that you need to see a doctor. But it’s scary, it’s the one of the scariest feelings in the world. You can’t even take care of yourself so how the hell could you even begin to care for another.
But thankfully you don’t have to, because it’s a false alarm. Now you can finally rid yourself of any contact with that boy after he’s put you through hell and back.
And honestly, I hope he finds happiness.
I hope that one day he meets a girl that fills him with so much joy that words fail anytime he’s in her presence; but subconsciously he finds bits of me within her.
Maybe it’ll be in the way she sticks her tongue out playfully, or the sway of her hips to a song on the radio. He’ll hear her laugh pierce through the air or watch as she rolls her much too familiar brown eyes at one of his stupid jokes; and right then and there he’ll think of me.
He’ll think of me and maybe he’ll remember how happy I was, how pure. He might remember watching my favorite movie with me and singing that final iconic song quietly in my ear. He’ll think of how nice it was to feel my soft kisses grace his face and the shrill giggle that would escape my lips whenever he pulled me in close.
And then he’ll remember what he did to me–how he dimmed the light in my eyes for a moment. The fear that coursed through my veins as an uncertain future loomed over the horizon. How broken I felt when he held me close outside my house, the rain and wind whipping past our faces but not holding a candle to numbness inside our bodies. In that small instance, maybe just for a second, he’ll remember.
And I hope it will be a lesson well learned.