Deep down, I’ve never really understood why people like me. Having someone love me is just crazy. I guess it goes along with trust… I used people and I know they used me. I was lied to in ways that changed my life. But I lied too. I thought that I could make anything work. I didn’t understand what love was.
When I fell in love for the first time, I gave everything over. I loved how his secrets matched mine and I didn’t feel alone anymore. I felt special. I was the perfect proud girlfriend. I cooked and cleaned. I fished and prepared what we caught. I didn’t scream about blood and I didn’t mind when he stayed out late with friends. I loved his family and the dreams we were creating.
He started to make jokes. They were little slights about my past. They reminded me that I should be ashamed. He started to ask a little more of me and didn’t understand why I couldn’t give it. He was never abusive or mean. I don’t mean to portray it that way. But I remember at the end wondering why I couldn’t make myself better for him. I remember thinking how unworthy I was.