I’m Not the Strong Friend, I’m the Broken One

Like all tragic stories I was a child looking for love in all the right places. My only issue was that those places had already been broken. In order to survive I learned to live without love. Unfortunately, now as an adult I’m realizing I can’t thrive without it. I wish I was the kind of friend that said I love you sober. I wish I was the kind of sister that didn’t show emotion solely through talking shit. I wish intimacy didn’t make me cringe. I wish I knew how to love.

I used to think I just didn’t want love. Now I think I just don’t know how to love. So this is a tale of a girl lost outside of love. A girl who isn’t sure she even wants to find it. It’s a tale of a girl who drank too much while listening to Hozier and ended up down the rabbit hole of self reflection. Maybe I’ll delete this in the morning. Maybe I keep it up but never read it so I never have to come to terms with who I am. Anyways, here’s me…

It’s weird to remember an innocence you can no longer touch. To feel just on the brink of a purity you can barely remember. How did I get here? I guess the way most others do. By trying to find love over and over again until the desire for love is completely drained out of you. Funny enough, that never stops one from desiring to be love. It just hampers your ability to return it.

It doesn’t happen all at once. Hell it’s not even one kind of thing that crushes you. It’s a multitude of things happenings at just the right time, in just the right alignment to shift your reality completely.

It happens as a kid, and it’s always the little things that turn into big things over time. I don’t even think anyone noticed. Well that’s not true. One year I returned to a summer program in a small town in South Carolina and someone there said that I’d changed. She looked at me as if there was some new piece of me that she didn’t recognize. If I’m being honest I didn’t know me anymore then either.

I was losing my connection to this world. I was becoming untethered to the emotional aspect of what it means to be a person. As a child I was being crushed under the weight of love never fulfilled. It’s not that there weren’t folks that didn’t love me. Looking at my life I had family and friends all around me. The issue was that everyone’s love had been tainted by circumstance. I don’t think anyone who ever told me they loved me really knew what it meant to love someone. My grandparents were the only people I can remember that made me truly feel love that was uncorrupted. However they lived a state away and love was withered away with every mile of the car ride back home. Numbness helped me to survive but it kills the imagination.

It’s crazy how once you start to detach to protect yourself you begin to detach from yourself. I used to be a phenomenal writer. Writing was my outlet. I was even published as a kid. But as time went on life got chaotic and the motivation and the ability to write just kind of left me. I don’t know if I just couldn’t connect well enough anymore to put words to paper or the stuff I was writing was just too hard to read.

Maybe after writing this I’ll get some of the me I once lost back. My guess is probably not, but something led me here. So shoutout to Moscow Mules and songs about obsessively loving a woman. Maybe I’ll become my own muse again.

My trauma has kept me alive on more than one occasion, and my trauma has also kept me from living. How do you reconnect with a love lost?

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