I Wrote This For You

A Story by alyssaruth_3

This is about my life and how everything has effected me

        I used to believe in the beauty of everyday life. Maybe not that life in and of itself was beautiful, but the little things. The look of pride and joy on a mother's face as she holds her baby for the first time. The triumph a child feels when they take their first step or on the completion of their first day of school. Adolescents intertwining their fingers with another. The smile on one's face when they speak of something that they're passionate about. All those little things we take for granted as we're caught up in the hustle and hurry of day to day living. Beautiful. My youthful, naive eyes always sought out the beauty of simplicity as a way to assure myself that it was the little things that made life worth living. It wasn't long, however, before reality stormed in and shattered my childish mindset.

   Innocence that searches for the silver-linings doesn't withstand the burdening pressure of realistic, pessimistic opinions for any substantial length of time. Sooner than later, i began to notice how the little things i had found so beautiful also contains corruptness and darkness. More and more i began to notice the cruel smile on the bully's face as teased another peer mercilessly; for entertainment. I began to notice the smirk that lingered on the lips of boys who cat-called and degraded women for pleasure. The ignorance of parents towards the pain that was reflected through the eyes of their children. With every new detail I observed, a deepening ache and disgust lodged itself in the pit of my stomach and clung there. There was no beauty in the dawn of each new day, only pain; harsh, unforgiving pain.

    By the time I made it to my teens it had all become too much. All the small details lost to others that pay no mind - details that had once brought a light - suddenly became too much. The entirety of my energy was spent coercing myself to crawl out of bed in the mornings. Spent telling myself to put one foot in front of the other in a forward motion. Still, the little girl trapped inside me sometimes shoved her way to the surface, attempting to find the beauty that had once made living seem so very intriguing, only to be smothered by the corruption all around. That little girl died a long time ago, leaving behind only whispers of something better. At night, when I find myself up past the rest again, I mourn for that little girl, because with her departure, she also stole my happiness.

    It was in my teens that the tiny seed of self-hatred magnified; pointing at every flaw with a giant foam finger. Insecurities took over the processing behind every decision, every movement. All the observations my mind surveyed watched the facial expressions of people I came in contact with; hopingly searching for approval. No more did I seek out the beauty in things because it was covered too heavily in darkness to find. It was in my teens that darkness became my single ally and loneliness my terminal comfort.

    My first experiments with love left me cynical and bitter. In a vain attempt to achieve love on some level, I laid myself on the ground and allowed the people I loved to walk all over me. And I thought that was love: giving yourself freely and unconditionally so that the one you love is happy. Love attacked me in a chaotic, unbreakable force. It wasn't until after I welcomed her inside that I realized love was a bad mannered guest who stole things from your home and left her room in disarray. Love looked like heaven but hurt like hell.

    The next time love came knocking at my door, I greeted her warily; afraid of the destruction she may have hidden behind her charming smile. Cunningly she snuck up on me still; preying on my weakness for beautiful things. She nudged me the moment I saw the smile of the most beautiful, broken person I had seen, but that smile came with a sting of commitment to someone else. I never meant to fall, but every time I saw those chocolate eyes something inside me raced and something calmed. It was the most beautifully confusing thing I'd ever felt.

    Then one day I realized it was too late for self-restraint because I fell too hard, head over heels for that girl. And loved laughed at her sly gift: a Pandora's Box of emotions. For a moment, I believed she had fallen for me too, but no good thing goes without consequence. Soon it blew up in my face and I found myself thrown into the crowds, naked without the barriers guarding my emotions. Desperately I groped for that feeling to return, but it had already disappeared back into the arms of her previous lover. And it hurt. Yet I clung to the pain because it was proof that I had something, even if it was no longer there. Still, I hoped that maybe one day she'd come back to me; and she did.

    Love wasn't what I expected. It wasn't beautiful. It isn't cute relationships with cheesy anniversaries. Not for me. Love was, tasting a delicacy of Eden then getting kicked out into the world. As her eyes began to sparkle for someone else even while she was looking at me, I finally understood why everyone warns you not to be the one who loves more. I felt myself fading into a dusty memory, but I couldn't get her out of my head. Cloud nine dissolved and I hit the ground hard, shattering everything inside of me without a single outward indication. And it hurt.

    Darkness encased me in his cool, familiar embrace. He whispered I told you so's and backhanded comforts, but I clung to the familiarity. He may be harsh, but at least he's always there when I come tumbling backward. Loneliness holds my hand as I bite back all the words I want to say when I see her with someone else. She strokes my hair late at night when the tears travel down the well-known trail on my cheeks. And she promises to never leave like the rest did.

    Love glances over her shoulder and gives me a sad look as she sees the agony she left me in, and walks away. Only then did I realize that I've been setting myself on fire to keep those I love warm and now I'm left in ashes and it's summertime. All the pain I saw in the world holds nothing against the pain you feel when you're in love with someone who doesn't love you back. Someone who never thinks about you anymore. And it still hurts. And I still love you.