Shakespeare (A Thank You Note) , Part I

"I was runnin'. You were walkin'. You couldn't keep up. You were fallin' down. Mmmmm. There's only one way down..."-Send My Love (To Your New Lover), Adele

Let me begin by saying this. I genuinely do believe he loved me...just in his way, not the correct one.

My junior year of high school brought about many changes. I came to grips with being bisexual. (Don't get it twisted. It's not a "phase" and the only thing preventing me from coming out publicly is the idea the bitches at my old high school will think I was sincerely flirting with them.) I transferred from Columbia High School to the Mississippi School of the Arts. I got my first real job and cellphone. I went through my first mentally abusive relationship. Regardless of if that's what you want to call it, that's what it was and after over a year of tap dancing around the subject, it's time I draw light to it because you all deserve to know the signs of an unhealthy relationship and how to reconstruct if you've already been through one.

I haven't been postponing this topic out of fear or even some goofy "I'm still in love" stuff. I've been postponing because I wanted to know for certain that a) I could write about this without having a complete breakdown and b) that I am, in fact, not that same girl. The truth? For a large part, I have disassociated myself from this time period in order to heal from it. I know I still can't discuss this from a completely objective standpoint, but I can definitely try.

As I've mentioned before in at least a couple entries, I remained occupied by relationships consistently from my freshman year of high school until the summer before my senior year of high school. I had no real personality or anything about me that genuinely stood out. I was a 2D character in a 3D world making myself relevant by the only fascinating thing about me: my freaky side. Opinion on politics? "Neutral." Religion? "I'm a Christian, and I'll pray for you if you aren't." Aspirations? Hobbies? Passions? "I'm in band." Problems? "Daddy issues. And me and my mom's relationship isn't so hot either."

Surely, this isn't the girl you all know, right? I mean the Andrea you know is fun and headstrong and can write her ass off. Is going to end up doing something huge. In actuality, I'll probably run away in a couple years and cut contact with almost everyone. Write some books, buy a house, and just be lowkey as hell until I die. That's the master plan, but my point is that at least I have a plan that isn't just scraps of things I don't want my parents to know or traits I got from ex-boyfriends. How did you people ever befriend me? What was there? (This isn't a rhetorical question. How were you my friends? I mean was I just a good sponge? I need to know.)

By my junior year of high school I had only slept away from home once and that was for band camp, which my parents called and even visited throughout the five days I was there. So as you can imagine, moving out of my house at sixteen and living with all these exciting people (atheists, druggies, nymphos, cosplayers) was overwhelming. What I did know was that I had quickly outgrown my then boyfriend. I came home one weekend with a fake septum ring, to which he responded in disgust (and probably mild horror), "If you're going to wear a nose ring, please wear a different one. That's a Devil's nose ring." ....

Then there was the football game where he embarrassed me in front of my friends by "checking" me about my revealing tank top to which I was "never going to wear that shit again." ....

The final straw was commenting "WOOOOW!! YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL!!!" under some girl's picture (after I had clearly said things like that made me uncomfortable early into our relationship)and the excuse was, "I was just giving credit where it's due. Plus, I'd like to collaborate with her musically." ....

That ended and was forgotten easily. Forgiven, not so much. Forgotten. Yes.

So I moved on. During my self-love trip that I hit pause on and didn't resume until basically this summer, I thought I had found someone I clicked with. And I did. I mean everything just made sense. He was quiet, didn't do the fuck shit I had just left someone for, was funny, cute, seemed like everything that was meant for me. And then two days after we got together and hit the road to go home for the weekend, I get the messages while I'm asleep.

"Hi, babygirl." "Why aren't you responding to me?" "Hello?" "Why are you ignoring the fuck out of me?" "Are you with someone else?" I was colorblind to the flags. The truth of the situation is that we had been messaging through social media, and I just made it seem like that was something I enjoyed doing. I was too embarrassed to tell the truth, which was that I couldn't pay the bill on my phone and my dad didn't do it consistently. That meant I wouldn't be able to even text back until I got home and on my neighbors' WiFi. I was colorblind to the obvious flags, coaxed him, made it my obligation to prove myself trustworthy to someone who ultimately would never trust me. This was October.

Fast forward to December, I'm on my dorm floor begging for a second chance after being broken up with for something along the lines of disrespect or making him feel unwanted. Some shit. I was accepted back and later manipulated into believing he was sorry for the breakup.

It was things like this off and on, off and on for nine months. Me trying to prove myself. That's how you get sucked in. You're not the giving up type. You want to fight for what you believe is love. You want to belong to someone, to something. He's/she's just been hurt before-giving up means being like the other people. If everything was so perfect at first, how do we get back to that? How can a relationship with two people be so lonely?

I was isolated from my friends, all my time accounted for. I was having a 24/7 conversation with someone that didn't seem to like me talking even to myself. And I wanted that. I needed that. Finally, someone that wanted me to themselves. Finally, someone that was selfish with me. Finally, someone I was good enough for. So what if it meant I couldn't hang out after school or that I was so stressed out my period became irregular? That not arguing back meant being held in one spot until you talked or got broken up with? All I knew was that I was needed to someone, and that feeling was new and put an entirely different warmth in my stomach.