Help

Dear Loni,

When I look into a mirror, I don't see an actual reflection. I see a flashback of my past; the men, the alcohol, the drugs. I cannot get past this. This is not who I am today and I all of these habits I have left behind. But somehow, I cannot allow myself to get over it. You are probably wondering what I am talking about and to be honest you will be the first person I share this with. I find it kind of ridiculous and somewhat cowardly to spill my actual thoughts out through a letter on a poetry site to a random person that I do not even know. But I think this may be the only way to get it off my chest because nothing else has worked. I think maybe I should just start at the beginning.

When I was thirteen, I got into my first relationship with a boy named Tim. I fell hard; and I fell fast. He was my world and vice versa. Every waking minute was spent with him. And you can probably guess how serious that relationship got. He was the one to take my innocence; the one that first stole my heart. For two years, my life was all about him. Tim hit me a couple times but I shrugged it off. I mean, I deserved it, right? Sure there were times Tim couldn't hang out with me because his other girl friends made plans for him, but he should be allowed to have friends... right? So there we were 15 and 16 years old; fighting, arguing, and crying. One night I showed up to surprise him at his house and instead he surprised me. I caught him cheating on me... with my friend. At first, I was so pissed off. I wanted to punch him and her. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry. But instead I drug my sorry ass back out of his house, got into my car and left, without saying a goddamn word. I called him the next day and explained that I was willing to forgive him and work through things. Do you know what he said back to me? "I don't think I could stop myself from cheating on you again." What the fuck kind of answer is that? The kind that crushes a goddamn heart. Beings that I was still in love with Tim and couldn't handle the lack of attention he gave me, I agreed to sleep with him on the side. Tim had found a new girlfriend, someone better and prettier than me, he was sure to tell me that. It honestly made me sick to my stomach, but I pretended to be fine with it and bragged that he was still sleeping with me. What a whore. Then I decided to make him jealous by messing around with his guy friends. What a brilliant plan that was. Not. Anyways, I can't make a long story short because the truth is.. well.. honestly.. five years later.. I am still sleeping with him. Don't ask me why because I don't still love him. But there is something about being with him that makes me feel alive. It is like the my lights are all off until I see him and I feel him next to me. It makes me sick and I hate myself for it. In the mean time..

I started hanging out with the wrong crowd, but hey, they showed me attention and were always begging for me to hang out with them. The girl I hung out with explained to me that sleeping around with guys was okay, it wasn't really a big deal. What a fool I was to believe that. But I did and I took action upon her words. I turned to sex and drugs to give me the fulfillment that Tim once had. Though they sufficed me for a week or two, I was always left feeling like I needed more. Something was missing, something just wasn't there. I assumed it was Tim and so I invited him back into my life after I had swore him out. Even then, something was still lacking. So I started drugs heavier and slept around more often. I was what people call a slut. I am ashamed to say it and I cannot believe I am actually telling you this. I was the Friday Night booty call, but I felt great because all of these men were calling my phone. I was so blind! I had no idea how bad this would fuck me up in the future. So after a year of this, my parents had had enough and insisted I change my ways. I attempted to move out and that resulted in being pulled out of school, arrested, and taken to a mental institution. How did that lead to a mental institution? My mom caught me trying to kill myself and used that as her reasoning. I spent a week in a mental institution and pasted on a fake smile with a promise that I had changed. I had changed for about a week. Then I got back into the same routine of the shit I was doing before. I remember one night, I was high at a party and passed out. The next morning I woke up hurting all over and I had missed calls in my phone from a Stephon. Who was Stephon? I had no idea. I called the number. Turns out, Stephon was the guy I messed with the night before. I felt sick and I felt like I was carrying something inside me that was going to kill me or force me to kill myself. I knew I needed help I just didn't know what to do. A few weeks later, I stopped hanging out with my old crowd and just kind of stuck to myself. I did not talk to people and they did not talk to me. Jokes were made about me in hallways as they passed, each one stabbing me a bit.

So here I was, eighteen years old. I hated myself, my friends hated me, my siblings hated me, and my parents hated me. I had no idea which way to turn or what to do. I started talking to one of my guy friends. He let me break down and cry for hours. He never said a word, he just listened and wiped away my tears. We started to hang out more and each time I felt a bit of release after being with him. We started to date and my feelings for Tim starts to disperse. We dated for two months or so, then he cheated on me. All the old feelings I had before came rushing back. It was like they were trapped behind a dam that was suddenly knocked down by his fucking cheating. So what the hell.

Finally, I decided to stand by myself. I left my home town, went to college for a bit. I moved away to a bigger city and started to become my own person and get to know me. I convinced myself I could leave that past behind and become a new person. But I haven't been able to. When I look at myself I just see a whore, a slut, a failure, a cutter, an emotional wreck. I have been a good person for the last year and a half. My old habits have long been gone and I am a new person. But I cannot deal with myself. I hate myself still. People always tell me how lucky I am to be so happy all the time. I just laugh and say 'yeah, i'm lucky'. Deep down inside, it only hurts when they say that because it means they aren't able to tell I'm lying. I get on this site to try and vent my anger and release my pain. I hope to find someone that can relate to me and help me but I have begun to think that helping me is impossible. How can I be happy again? How can I love myself again? How can I let go of everything I used to be? I cannot move on, I am stuck and I have no idea what to do.

                                                                                Sincerely,
                                                                                            Allyson