You Lost Me

We were supposed to be friends. We were friends until that night.

He was someone I trusted. He was someone I grew to love and adore, and appreciate over time. He was someone I thought I could always count on. When I didn’t have a car- let alone a driver’s license- he was always willing to pick me up for events and willing to take me back home. He was one of the sweetest and most kind. He gave me the feeling of security and assurance that I could always depend on him. He was my best friend.

The hardest part about admitting that at one point I considered him to be one of my best friends is that for the longest time I couldn’t trust guys after him. It took me a while before I decided I had to get him out of my life. Before I realized that, NO, it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t lead him on. I didn’t intentionally give him mixed signals. It was not my fault for trusting him to the point of being my complete self with him. No, none of it was my fault. He never asked me if I liked him as more than a friend, he just assumed. He never asked if I was attracted to him, he just assumed. He never woke me up that night to ask if I wanted to have sex, he just decided on his own that he could take advantage of my while I was drunk and unconscious.

He was supposed to protect me. He was supposed to be the one who kept me safe from guys who tried to take advantage of me. He was supposed to be my friend. He was supposed to be someone I could trust. Instead, he was the one I needed protection from that night. He was the one who needed to be kept away from me for my own safety that night. He wasn’t my friend that night. He was no longer someone I could trust after that night.

Hours before it all happened, I was drunk and needed to sleep. He saw that I was tired and offered me his room promising that I had it to myself. I brought my friend with me because she was the one who drove us to his party so I needed her to sleep, too, so we can drive home the next morning with her sober. She decided to sleep on the floor while I took the bed. I fell asleep instantly. Then I woke up to him with his hands inside my pants, fingers playing inside of me, and lips pressed against my neck. I thought I was dreaming for a second so I didn’t stop it right away. It wasn’t until he was sucking on my neck and it felt wet that I finally realized this was actually happening to me and I didn’t know who the fuck it was. That’s when I pulled his hand away and pushed him back. I didn’t need the bedroom light on to know who it was at that point.

I couldn’t fucking believe it. How could he!?

I sat up, still drunk, and realized I wasn’t just in bed with one guy, I was in bed with two guys. The other guy, another person I thought was my friend was laying next to me as if he was waiting for his turn. He was still drunk, I could smell the alcohol from his breath sitting up. I jumped off the bed, shook my friend’s arm to wake her up and we left.

She took me home and I went straight for the shower. I must have sat in my bathtub for about an hour leaning against the wall, crying. I kept telling myself, this wouldn’t have happened to you if you didn’t drink so much. It’s your fault you got drunk. You should have not drank. You asked for this.

No, whether I was under the influence or not, my so-called friends shouldn’t have done that to me. Especially him of all people.

 

Beautiful- Bazzi

“It started when we were younger…”

I swear I loved him. I swear I would do anything and everything for him. But I think we both went through way too much at such a young age that we both didn’t know how to overcome those struggles together.

Neither one of us had a driver’s license so we went on a lot of dates by taking the bus. There were times when we would take long walks together to our dating spots. I remember, all we ever wanted was to be able to do more together with a car. We would always talk about going on long trips together. One of our main goals was to drive to the cheesecake factory and try all the different flavors of cheese and ice cream. Because I love cheese and ice cream. In all the years we dated, we were never able to make that happen. Looking back, I now realize that those were probably my favorite memories. It wasn’t about having a car it was just about being together. We would do anything just to be together. Even when the bus stopped running at night, we would walk miles just to see each other.

For 3 years, we either walked or jogged 2 miles, 35 minutes, to each other’s houses late at night just to sneak in and sleep together. Even if it was just for 4-5 hours. It was the best 4-5 hours of sleep. I had really bad insomnia at the time, still do, but sleeping in his arms allowed me to sleep peacefully. There was something about being wrapped in his arms that felt the most at home. It felt absolutely right. Being held, smelling his scent, hearing his heart beat, feeling his chest against mine, was the most soothing sensation I had ever felt. I was in love.

Thanks to him, I learned how to love, be loved, and also how to love myself. I learned that even the most perfect couples aren’t always perfect behind closed doors, but it’s how you balance both the good and the bad that makes you a stronger couple. I wish I had someone I could turn to about how to work through those bad times because then I could have saved Us. Neither one of us knew how to save each other from the pain, the misery, the agony, and the struggle.

“Know your imperfections every angle…”

I don’t want to blame my parents for my failed relationships, but I must say that they had a part in why my first love became my last one. I grew up watching them fight verbally and tearing each other down emotionally and mentally. What was even worse, for me at the time about their marriage, was that I knew they would never leave each other. It was due to our island customs and religious devotions. They were each other’s first marriage and they both vowed to never divorce. They both showed me that no matter what how much you fight you must stay together. They didn’t teach me why you had to stay together. They didn’t teach me how they worked through their problems. I only saw them fight, I never saw how they made up and what reconnected them after a break of fighting. So I thought that the person I love would stay with me no matter how much we fought.

Too bad no one ever told me back then that you can’t expect two broken souls to mend each other’s broken worlds back together. We both had our share of heartaches caused by our family members. We turned to each other for comfort, for safety, and for understanding. We started to rely on each other to make things right instead of working together make wrongs right again.

“Loving me we are beautiful creation…”

We were a beautiful story. We still are. We haven’t been together for years. And I just don’t see him the way I used to or love him the way I used to, but I still love him. I know he loves me, too. He doesn’t show it, doesn’t say it, doesn’t act like it, but I feel it. I’ve known him for so long that I don’t need actions or words to know that he loves me. He just does. Because if you know us, if you see us, if you listen to us, you know that we still love each other. It may not be passionate love. It may not be intimate love. But what it is, is committed love. Empty love. The passion and intimacy died years ago, but the commitment remains.

 

Like, what the fuck, Kayla

I am at a point in my life where I am stuck between wanting to go on a strict healthy eating diet or just not giving a fuck.

When I first found out I was pregnant with Kayne, I was weighing at 105 lbs. After I gave birth to Kayne, my weight was at 155-160lbs. After two weeks of breast feeding, I was down to 140 lbs. Now, when I look back, I was at a good weight and had the potential to lose more and tone up. Except back then, I thought I was at my fattest point in life. I felt fat, ugly, and worthless. I was an 18-year-old single mom with a newborn and no confidence whatsoever.

Five months into being a new mom, I reconnected with some old high school friends and picked up a habit of drinking and partying. I took advantage of every night that Kayne was staying at his dad’s and would go out with friends just to get wasted. I found myself drowning in my depression with alcohol. It was the only way I could escape reality while falling into a pit of worthlessness. I’m not gonna to lie, I had the best time of my life with my friends when I was with them, but once I was home, I was unhappy and miserable all over again. I would hold Kayne in my arms and cry thinking, “This baby deserves a better mother.” I would literally look at my child, hug him, and tell him how sorry I was for being a shitty parent. I was on maternity leave from my job for two weeks before returning. At the time, I was working as a hostess bringing in customers to their tables and serving their drinks. When I returned to work from my maternity, I barely got hours and my boss had me scheduled to work four hours a week on Sunday mornings for another two weeks before letting me go. His only reason for letting me go was due to not having enough in the budget to pay the staff. What a fucking asshole. He kept the two blonde and blue eyed girls who got hired a year after I started working there. This was the end of January. So from the end of January 2009 to May 2010, I was jobless. I was living at home off of my parents and my son’s child support. Do you see why I was drinking to escape my reality at the time? Which is in fact THE STUPIDEST FUCKING REASON EVER.  I was a worthless piece of shit who clearly didn’t try hard enough to get another job. Instead I went out partying whenever Kayne was staying at his dad’s place.

Summer 2009 was probably one of my most unforgettable summers in all my 27 years of living. I was 18, young, wild, and free…on the weekends only. I met someone whom I was falling for by the second. We would talk every night from May 2009 to August 2009 unless we were physically in the same vicinity as one another. He was someone I could easily open up to and for the first time since Kayne’s dad, I was falling deeply in love with the guy. He was everything to me. Until that August of 2009 when I finally told him how much I cared for him, loved him, and wanted to be with him, all just to be rejected. I thought it was the end of me. There was no way I could possibly fall for anyone else after that. I used up all of my first-time-evers with Kayne’s dad and then I used up all of my heartfelt emotions on that one guy who walked away. And who would have figured that we’d meet up again 3 years later just for him to tell me that he actually fell for me that blissful summer of 2009, but was too fucking scared to admit it to himself. He gave me this bullshit excuse talking about, “I was in love with you. I wanted to be with you. I was just too scared of admitting that I had fallen for you. I loved you so much that I feared if I messed up even once and broke your whole world, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

 We were sitting in my car outside of his place. I had agreed to meet up with him after I got out of class. It was Fall of 2012 and we just sat there in my car with the heater running to keep us warm. I remember thinking to myself just how uncomfortable I was that he was all of a sudden confessing how he felt for me years before. And then he went on to ask, “What if we tried to give it another try? You know, another chance. What do you say?” It took me a minute to responds because the first thing I wanted to do after hearing him out was to kick him out of my car and drive home. It was 3 years too late for me. I already moved on. I was over him. WAY OVER HIM. He also lost a ton of weight from drinking too much alcohol and doing  too much drugs. Even just having him sit in my passenger seat, I could smell the alcohol on him even though he had brought nothing with him when he got in the car.

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of too late to say that because I don’t feel anything for you anymore,” I couldn’t even look at him. I was just uncomfortable. “You know, it’s getting late. I should get going.”

 We said our goodbyes, he gave me a hug, got out of my car, and I drove off immediately. The second I got home, I blocked him off all of my social media and even blocked him off my contact list. I wanted nothing to do with him. It was wild to me, too, because 3 years before I wanted all of him. 3 years later and I wanted nothing of him. Funny how life works out.

From August 2009 to May 2010, I had gained over 20 lbs. and was weighing at 160 lbs. before I finally started working as a Dietary Aid at a Skilled Nursing Facility. Seeing as how I had packed on way too much weight, I began hitting up the gym with my sister, Lili, to tone up the fat I had and lose some pounds. We were on a roll that entire year.

Then I transferred from PCC to Concordia and all of a sudden, my weight increased little by little. By 2015, I was weighing at 170 lbs. and now it is 2017 and I am sitting at 180-185 lbs. In the last 9 years, I have gained a total of 45 lbs. What the fuck, man.

I was searching through YouTube for some weightloss tips when I came across a youtuber named Kylie Aaliyah who lost 30-40 lbs. within 4 months without working out. If she can do it, so can I, right?

Right?

I’m Doing My Best

“To be honest, when I’m staying at my dad’s, it doesn’t feel like I’m with my family,” he says looking down at the sidewalk.

“It doesn’t feel like family? How so?”

“I don’t know,” he takes in a quick breath and exhales. “I feel like I can only eat what he gives me. Like, I don’t have a choice in what I want to eat. I’m scared to ask him to make me anything so I feel like I’m always hungry.”

“That’s not okay, Kayne,” I tell him. “He’s your dad. If you tell him what you just told me, I’m sure he would be willing to make you something you can eat.”

“See, mom, this is why I couldn’t tell you anything at first,” his tone changes and he sounds frustrated but tries to hold it in.”

“What do you mean?”

“You always take my dad’s side. I want you to take MY side,” he says firmly.

“I’m always on your side, son. I just know that your dad really does try his best and so I want to give him a chance,” I explain myself.

“Well it’s not like that for me. When I’m with you, grandpa, and grandma, I feel like I’m with my family. I feel at home. It’s not like that at my dad’s. It’s different.  I feel so lonely at my dad’s and all I want to do is come back home.”

“I had no idea you felt this way,” my heart sinks. I want to hug him and assure him I will never make him feel that way but I don’t want to break the moment. It’s hard enough getting him to open up to me. “If you want, I can talk to your dad about it. Tell him what you told me so he knows.”