5 years ago

It all started when I was 11. I met this boy, he was 16. I was infatuated by him and his blonde hair because he reminded me so much of my school crush who had just moved away. We became “friends”. We talked a lot, we had mutual friends (that were closer to his age) He was a high school dropout, resulted to drinking and smoking and confusing relationships to clear his head.

We were five years apart, but according to him we had a lot in common. He started by educating me about sex and relationships, the gist of talking stages and sleeping around. He told me about all the girls he was with, we’d make fun of them together. He admitted he was more open with me than anyone else he knew and wished constantly i was older in age.

He started talking to me while drunk. slurring words like “love” when we’d fight or argue and i’d tell him to leave me alone but he wouldn’t. He has a hard life, i knew that, i thought i could understand. Soon after i started calling him intimate names. names “grown ups” would use in bed with their partners, he loved it and laughed. He told me specifically i was his “fourth” option. there were three other girls above me that were his age, if things went wrong he’d pick me. If i was his age i’d be number 1.

He started getting jealous of boys i used to talk with like my school crush, he demanded to know their names and social media handles and would make fun of them and belittle them in order to look superior (to which he succeeded)

we argued a lot. he yelled a lot. i was terrified i couldn’t sleep, i began cutting myself, losing friends due to my own anger and emotionally instability, i didn’t talk to my family or yelled at them constantly, leaving home during COVID was a challenge itself.

Soon after, I left. I cut contact and took a stand. I began my hyper-sexuality, i resulted to porn material and began to inflict things upon myself. I hung out with the wrong crowd. I went back to him. He finally got a proper girlfriend but he kept me company, helped my “needs” i suppose? I was 12 at that point. He wanted desperately to keep in contact. His girlfriend found out he was talking to a 12 year old and she was mad (deservedly so) but she wasn’t mad at him she was mad at me. she yelled at me, called me names, belittled what i was trying to explain to her when i finally confessed what was happening. She didn’t believe me and thought i was a troubled kid.

I confided in one of our mutual friends there around his age, she was appalled and sided with me, lectured him and defended me. After that, another brick fell. He apologised, said the sweetest things to me, comforted me, said words of love and adoration and empathy. I was once again trapped this time in a different way.

I began to romanticise what I had been through as an attempt to cope with it all. I believed it was love, that it was passion and true. that all that pain was just the trials of love. I began to write poetry some were dark some were romantic. I convinced myself I was in love and it worked. I stopped inflicting harm upon myself, things seemed brighter.

Until another bomb fell. He went back to his old ways he took back his apology and began calling me insane for accusing him of doing horrible things to me. He called me weak and privileged and caught up in my own head. He yelled and yelled and yelled and I left. He never shut the door, he always begged me to come back, always left the door open, always told me I was welcome to come back.

The thought of running back into his arms was always an option. Life got harder, friends faded, depression emerged, bullying began, loneliness erupted. School was ***, home was isolating. I never went back to him. I buried myself in tales of him and I, far away from everyone and In love and happy. I was 13 now. Nobody could love me or understand me the why he did, I wished he’d just soar me into his world and keep me there, He had moved out from his girlfriend’s apartment. They were over now.I told him I loved him one night, but blocked all contact before he could respond, he immediately knew it was me but I made sure to disappear.

I’m 16 now. the romanticisation has faded, I know i was abused i had always known that. I know i was only a child, that my childhood was taken from me without my consent or control. I know i was not in love and I know why I thought I was. His ex girlfriend is a mother now, she just gave birth to her first daughter back in January. It disgust me in a way, that people like that are allowed to become parents to children when they couldn’t even protect the children around them and allowed them to be abused and exploited without a care or a single glance