It didn’t go like I’d planned.
The first time should be special,
or romantic,
or at least with the right person.
What that means,
I don’t really know.
Even now,
married and actually in love,
I don't know what that means.
I do know a few things, though.
I do know I shouldn’t have felt dirty after.
I do know that it wasn’t supposed to feel that way.
I do know I shouldn’t have done it.
I do know that I regret it.
I regret putting myself through that,
Because being attached to someone,
the wrong one,
at the wrong time,
in that way,
can drive someone insane.
That feeling of duty laced with low self-esteem
brought me to that place of vulnerability.
The anxiety and the depression
worked together to make me
feel like I needed it,
like I owed it.
I pretended I was happy because
I didn’t want to be that girl.
I didn't want to be in the wrong,
even though that was the wrong.
I tossed around the word “love”.
I did my best to pretend
like I knew what I was doing.
The worst part is,
he asked if I wanted to.
He asked if I was okay.
He asked if I wanted to stop,
keep going,
take a break.
The worst part is,
I lied.
I lied to him
and to myself.
And I still don’t know why.
I know better now,
Than to blame him for my mistakes.
I tried.
I tried for a long time.
The day I realized
That it was all on me?
I felt even dirtier.
I felt guilty.
I felt like I had
betrayed myself.
14 year-old-me…
She deserved so much better.
