Shower inspired thoughts
shower inspired memories came back tonight hope what I put down came out somewhat in a way that makes sense as it’s kinda all over the place.
Great loss.
She was there for all of it.
She knew.
She believed me.
She witnessed the bruises, the fear, the silence. When the community protected my abuser because it was easier than admitting the truth, she still believed me without hesitation.
We were inseparable in high school. Two girls carrying abuse like it was stitched into our skin. She understood me in ways nobody else ever could.
She never judged the ways I coped.
Not the drinking.
Not the smoking.
Not the pills.
Not the cutting.
Not the random people I let touch me because I confused attention with love.
Not the way I started spiraling when the pain became too heavy to carry quietly anymore.
She understood because she was drowning too.
She was also the first person I admitted I liked girls to. I remember being terrified. She just smiled at me like it was the most normal thing in the world. She made me feel safe when I felt ruined.
And then she was gone.
A teenage girl dead by suicide because the abuse finally became bigger than her will to survive.
The truth is I understood why she did it, and that has haunted me for years.
Part of me was devastated.
Part of me was angry.
And part of me was jealous she escaped her pain while I stayed behind living with mine.
I hated myself for feeling that way.
I forgive her for leaving. I always will. But I still wish she was here. I wish we had gotten older. I wish the system had protected us instead of protecting the men who hurt us.
Mostly I wish she knew she mattered enough to stay.
Great loss.
She was there for all of it.
She knew.
She believed me.
She witnessed the bruises, the fear, the silence. When the community protected my abuser because it was easier than admitting the truth, she still believed me without hesitation.
We were inseparable in high school. Two girls carrying abuse like it was stitched into our skin. She understood me in ways nobody else ever could.
She never judged the ways I coped.
Not the drinking.
Not the smoking.
Not the pills.
Not the cutting.
Not the random people I let touch me because I confused attention with love.
Not the way I started spiraling when the pain became too heavy to carry quietly anymore.
She understood because she was drowning too.
She was also the first person I admitted I liked girls to. I remember being terrified. She just smiled at me like it was the most normal thing in the world. She made me feel safe when I felt ruined.
And then she was gone.
A teenage girl dead by suicide because the abuse finally became bigger than her will to survive.
The truth is I understood why she did it, and that has haunted me for years.
Part of me was devastated.
Part of me was angry.
And part of me was jealous she escaped her pain while I stayed behind living with mine.
I hated myself for feeling that way.
I forgive her for leaving. I always will. But I still wish she was here. I wish we had gotten older. I wish the system had protected us instead of protecting the men who hurt us.
Mostly I wish she knew she mattered enough to stay.
