I don't know what to do - that's the short and simple version of what I'm going to say. I'm confused, I'm lost, and I have no clue what to do. It hurts, having to wake up every day and force a smile, a laugh - because I know if I don't, he'll worry. It hurts, having to wake up every day and pretend to be just a friend, a 'younger sister' - because I care so much more than that. It hurts, having to wake up every day and know that he'll never care for me the way I care for him - because I know in his eyes I can never be anything but a friend. And it hurts, having to wake up every day and know all this, and yet still smile and laugh - because if I slip up once, everything will come crashing all around me.
I am not a strong person, either physically, mentally, or emotionally - this I know. I will never be the kind of person who can do anything they want to just by wanting to do it, the kind of person who can stand up for what they believe in even when everyone else is against them, the kind of person who can keep going even when they feel like crap. I am the kind of person who can only do things through the aid of others, the kind of person who needs the support of others to stand at all - much less stand strong, the kind of person who collapses and gives in at the first sign of opposition. I am weak, and this I know.
When it feels as if things are not going right, I cannot keep going. When it feels as if my friends are gone, I cannot stand tall. When it feels as if I am alone, I cannot live. It hurts far too much, and I cannot handle the pain.
But what hurts the most is being unable to tell anyone about this. I cannot truly open up to anyone, and tell them how much I really need them, how much I rely on them as my friend, how much I trust them. Instead, I have to go through life living a lie - forcing a smile. Forcing a laugh. Pretending everything's okay. Pretending everything's all right. Hiding away my pain. Hiding away my fears. Lying with a smile, a laugh, to those I have promised truth.
I am a pathetically weak person.
I long to throw off my weaknesses, to stand strong and alone and free without the chains of inability. I wish so much I did not need the support of others. But mostly, I wish so much I did not fear love even as I long for it.
Because really, that is the root of my problems. When I was younger - in elementary school - I was an outcast. A victim, not a leader. A hated child. My parents did not pay attention to me. My only friend betrayed me, stabbed me in the back. My classmates used me for homework help, then called me names, cursed me, lied about me - they spread rumors behind my back, said I was diseased and any who talked to me would be cursed forever.
It did not get much better in middle school. The rumors became scathing nicknames, curse words that unfortunately were similar to my own name; the physical bullying became mental ignorance and unveiled hatred. And yet, as before, there was nothing to do. I gained a friend in eighth grade, true, but the damage had already been done: I had found a cure in physical, self-inflicted pain, and that curse has never left me.
It followed me to high school, where I was yanked away from my one friend and thrown into a new cage of lions. I was alone and friendless yet again, and allowed myself to be taken in by older kids who seemed to know how I felt. Two proclaimed to love me within months - yet I chose to go with the one who had asked first, despite the fact that I harbored some small feelings for the other and truly loved a third - my first real love. It proved to be a choice I would regret forever.
The one I chose was violent, and he often came close to beating me - he would shake me, hit me, threaten me, and all but force himself on me. Although I managed to break up with him within the month, the damage was done - he would never stop pursuing me, while the other boy, the one I had perhaps liked, was going out with another girl, the one I loved was still with his longtime girlfriend, and I was doomed never to find lasting happiness.
Although I did find happiness for five short months this past year, it proved to be yet another lie, and it ended as quickly as it had begun. And yet still, I had not outrun the love I felt for the third boy, the one who became my closest friend, my 'older brother'. To this day, I still love him - yet he does not love me, or even like me. To him, I am just a friend - just his 'younger sister' - and I know that will never change.
Yet no matter how much I try to hate him - or at least like him only as a friend - I cannot. He is nice to me, when my life's story has been one of hatred and insults. He gives me smiles and comfort, where others gave me glares and beatings. He gives me hope, where others gave me despair. He gives me life, where others gave me death. Yet he will never give me the one thing I still need, because I am just a friend.
I know I am not beautiful, or pretty, or cute, or adorable, or even lovable; I know I am not smart, or intelligent, or quick of wit. I know he will never love me.
So why do I keep hoping? Why do I keep hurting myself like this, building up hope when it will only crumble? Why can't I let him go?
He gave me a hope for the future, but now he gives me crushed dreams.
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