To Those Who See Me

To the woman sitting across from me, putting the last coat of nail polish on my nails, I can see your eyes darting from my nails to my wrist, and from my wrist to my forearm.

It is okay to ask. I don’t mind. I know we are strangers, but I would rather tell a stranger about the mistakes I have made than my own family.

I can’t tell if you’re judging me, or if you are concerned. If you are judging me, feel free. I know what I did wrong, and I don’t need your opinion. If you are concerned, you don’t have to be. I’m better now.

To the girl who put me in a position where I felt like I deserved to carve the word FAT in my thighs, I forgive you.

It was my thoughts that led me to my actions, and at the time, I was a loaded gun. Emotional, unforgiving, and hurt. I can say that you hurt me, because you did. Saying that I was a downgrade, making me feel like I didn’t deserve anyone’s love or affection.

I’m sorry that I overstepped, and that I put you in a defensive position. We are human. We say things out of instinct, and lash out when we are in pain. We are both in the wrong. Only, my actions are forever embedded in my body.

To my best friend, I’m sorry.

You’re my biggest mistake, and yet my biggest lesson.

I showed you the worst in me, and there is no coming back from that. The nights you would come over to make sure I was okay. Searching every inch of my room for something sharp. Seeing me on my bathroom floor, razor in hand.

I took so much from you. I took innocence and gave you heartbreak. I know you were heartbroken. It wasn’t just the disappointed look in your eyes; it was the number of times that you told me to stop, but I couldn’t keep a promise.

Our pinky promises.

I tried so hard, you know. For you especially, because you were the only one who made it seem like it was worth it to stop. But I was so angry with myself, and so frustrated and confused, and I was hiding.

When you said that I was too much for you to handle and that I should stop messaging you, I broke into a million pieces. It’s taken me three years to put myself back together, and I still cry every time I look at my arm. Because I ruined us. I ruined our movie nights, and our conversations about life and where we fit in it. I ruined any chance of us ever getting back to where we once were.

And it is the biggest regret of my life.

I want you to know; I don’t hold anything against you. You did what was best for you, and I was just too sick to understand what that meant. The day you left me crying on my bedroom floor, that was the day that I swore I would never hurt someone as much as I hurt you. I have been clean ever since.

It was a rude awakening, but it was needed.

I hope that after all these years, you will forgive me for not being the person you wanted me to be sooner.

I say these things because I have a lot of regrets in my life, and unfortunately, I wear them on my sleeve. Literally.

Mental health has come up a lot in my life as of late, and I want you, dear reader, to know that it is okay to be broken. It is okay to collapse into a ball on the floor of your one-bedroom apartment in a puddle of tears. It is okay to know that you are not okay.

What isn’t okay is allowing yourself to live with the pain and the suffering without seeking help.

We all need help. We all deserve support, and we deserve treatment when we know it is necessary.

I learned that too late. I put myself back together all on my own, but that is the choice I made.

Right now, I am mentally the most sound I have ever been, so there’s no need to worry about me.

Just know that you aren’t alone, and everyone faces their own demons. You just need to give yourself time and patience. You deserve that much.