Scars that Never Heal

Three years ago today, he said goodbye.

It’s been plenty of time, and I can imagine my friends rolling their eyes saying, “Why are you still thinking about him? How are you not over it already?”

True. I’ve wondered that myself. How is it that after 1096 days, I’m still thinking about this day? How is it that I still feel a twinge of pain piercing between my rib cage?

The answer is plain and simple. He was my first.

I don’t mean it in a sexual way. If anything, he and I only ever kissed. I mean it in an emotional way.

He was the first person to ever make me feel wanted, beautiful, and desirable. He was the first person to tell me that he wanted to be with me. “Eunice, you are fuckable.” He was the first person to ever hear about the darkest thoughts of my mind. He was the first person to hear about my problems with my parents. He was the first person to ever make me feel wanted whole.

And three years ago today, he took it away. In a big way.

He said goodbye, giving me all the reasons why I wasn’t good enough, why I was not worthy, why I was not actually wanted, beautiful, or desirable. He left me with an “advice” which left me feeling empty, cheap, and worthless. “Go sleep with some guys and come back to me.”

He left me in worse shape than when he found me. He broke me in ways that I didn’t know I could break.

In some ways, I am grateful…as I have learned a lot from my experience with him. But the scar is still there. My mind is terrified of letting anyone that close again; close is good, but not too close. There are walls I did not have before; there are obstacles I did not have before; I have limits I did not have before.

These scars maybe just need more time to heal.




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