Start Over…?

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

If you haven’t guessed by now, this is the point in my life when things greyed (as mentioned in my Intro). I had been repeatedly raped, blackmailed, and my boyfriend, the love of my life, had just left me after finding out. I was alone. I was depressed. I was suicidal. And all for what? Something terrible happened to ME, and as a result, the one person in this world that I cared for the most turned his back on me, and considered himself the victim. The worst part: I believed I deserved it.

The only good thing that came out of that fateful night was that The Recluse had disappeared: no texts, no calls, no random appearances. He was gone. I was unsure what had happened to him, but he was the last thing on my mind. It was a blessing to be rid of such a parasitic, torturous, sad excuse for a human being.

After losing everything (at least in my mind), I knew I had to stay busy; to keep my mind from becoming overrun with dark thoughts and depressive reminiscing. I continued with work and school, though not with the same vigor. It took me a few days to settle into a routine again, but it was never the same; I felt so alone. Even with working part-time and going to school full-time, I still managed to find myself having an abundance of free time; time that was inevitably filled with my subconscious telling me things I couldn’t stand to hear:

If you had just done what he wanted, Boyfriend would still be with you. You deserve to be single. No one will ever want to be with you after what happened.

In response to my unwanted singledom, and trying to occupy every waking moment with productivity, I started going to the gym regularly. It was a small, privately owned gym so I was typically the only one there at any given time, which was ideal. I didn’t need to be surrounded by people watching me workout; judging me. Especially those of the opposite sex sizing me up and/or demonstrating their feeble attempts at flirting; that was precisely the last thing I needed in my life. My new routine seemed to suit me. I was happy (for the most part) being alone; enjoying my own company. It was a new found freedom really.

I was working out one day when my phone buzzed. Often times, mom would shoot me a text asking for suggestions for dinner, but the message wasn’t from mom. It was from Boyfriend (?).

“How have you been?”

Tears started to form in my eyes as I excitedly figured out my response.

“Ok. Keeping busy. You?”

We continued texting back and forth sporadically for a few days. He made it known that he wasn’t ready to dive back in to a relationship, but he wanted to try and start over; as friends. I’m okay with that. First and foremost, before things ended, he was my best friend. If I could have that back, my world wouldn’t be so empty. Even though he was still very distant, it was still nice to know that he hadn’t given up on me; so I shouldn’t either.

Ever since Boyfriend and I had started dating, he was working towards getting his private pilots license. I supported him throughout the entire process (roughly 1.5-2 years), so when he finally passed his flight test, he invited me for a ride; just him and me. I was ecstatic! Not just over the fact that he wanted me to be his first passenger, but proud of him for his great accomplishment. We weren’t heading anywhere special; just to the next airport over, but it didn’t matter. I was with him.

We were thousands of feet in the air as the sun was setting, casting rays of golds and reds across the sky speckled with fluffy purple clouds. It was pure magic. That was, until the plane began slowing, the tail began dropping and buzzers began ringing. I grabbed onto the door and the dashboard and turned to him. He didn’t seem to be bothered that things were not as they should have been, or at least, what I assumed they should have been. Next thing I knew, the plane was banking to one side with the ground displayed through Boyfriend’s window. He leveled the plane and we continued gliding back to the air strip. He glanced over at me with an absurdly sly look on his face. HE HAD DONE IT ON PURPOSE!

We landed moments later and as he was inspecting the Cessna before leaving it for the next pilot, he was carrying on about how he tricked me and made me think that we were going to die. “Its a training exercise all pilots do before they get their licenses.” A warning would have been quite sufficient in such a circumstance! Somewhere in his shuffling around the hangar and making fun of my earlier expression of pure panic, he glided past me kissing me right on the lips, then continued what he was doing.

Wait… What just happened? Are we back together? Huh?

That evening, he texted me apologizing. “Sorry for the kiss. I’m still not ready to get back together with you yet. It just felt like the old us again. I hope you understand.” Umm… well… not really, but okay… Boyfriend kissed me!

After that incredible evening, his texts became next to nonexistent and he started avoiding my calls. I’m not the prying type; never have been, never will be, so after my first few unsuccessful attempts, I stopped pining. When he was ready, he would reach out to me (I hoped), but it wasn’t before the worst day of my life occurred.


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