Dismemberment and Memories
A/N: The following written blob below mentions briefly past abuse, the section The Heart, is mostly fictional with hints of truth intermixed. If you don’t want to read that part of the blurb please skip to the next section titled “The Legs”. Thank you.
The car pulled out of the drive and sped off down the road, it was over. She had left without a trace of remorse or parting words. Did it hurt? Like hell. But some things you just have to let go of. Over the years many had left my life, each taking a small piece of myself with them, how is it decided what goes and when? Simple, first went the heart, then the legs, followed by the arms, and finally the mind.
"I'm half a heart without you," I softly sang along to the song playing in the background, I was lying in my bed staring at my phone in disbelief. After five and a half years of friendship she had told my darkest secret to the world. Social media lit up, blowing up my phone with words of encouragement and disgruntled anger. A single tear fell from my face as I relived the horrendous event, a single occurrence I hadn't thought of in years. The time they mentally scarred me at the age of twelve. Over the years I had told many of my inner circle about the occurrence, and how sometimes late at night I feared for myself at the slightest sound of cracking wood along the floor. How I sometimes couldn't stand to be near them without flashbacks attacking my mind. Now some I had told of this event i regretted, long lost ex's and lost close friends, but I could've swore that she, of all people, was the one person I could trust with anything.
But there is was, lit up in bold italic print, the story of my abuse. The comments, while mostly supportive, were harmful nonetheless. Thank goodness my they were deaf to the mild chatter of social media, but they would find out eventually, and I was dreading that moment. How would they react? Would they believe me? I had tried to bring it up in the past but I could never choke out the words. I knew after this we could no longer be friends, how could I trust someone again after they had leaked my deepest secret to the cruel world of social media?
Tears free falling from my eyes I picked up my phone, and dialed the number that once brought me joy. "Hey, I'm sorry I couldn't catch you while you were awake but there is something I have to say. Why did you put that online? Why?" my voice cracked a bit, " I was happy without it being out for everyone to know, and I am deeply sorry but this is the end of our friendship. I trusted you with my biggest secret, the greatest sign of trust I could ever bestow anyone, and you broke that trust. I love you to death, I really do, and it breaks my heart to do this, but this is goodbye." I hung up the phone and reached for the box of Kleenex nearby, half of my heart dead, lost, gone.
Next to go was the legs, useless things in theory, but oh so important in the grand scheme of things, They went to the jackass that stalked me for three plus years. A sophomore year mistake that had senior consequences. They walked off with our final bitter goodbye, a door finally, and thankfully, closed. How does one live without legs? They hop, they crawl, they struggle, they fight, until they find something that works to help. My help was a close friend, always willing to give a smile or listen to late night emotion filled rants through senior year and beyond.
Since he went off to college I've felt empty, the foundation he built for me to stand upon slowly crumbling into nothing. And it wasn't until he left that the "I love you's," became heartfelt and meant something to me. Does he know? I hope so, he promised to be there no matter what. But everything is okay, for one can live with half a heart and crumbling legs.
My arms went to the boyfriend before boot camp, they fled to his simple caresses and heartfelt words. The body was glad to be rid of them, for as sad as it is they felt little for the object of the arms affection. What once was endearment turned to casual friendship as the ship date drew clearer, though the arms still wrote out halfhearted "I love you's" and feigned interest in his favorite topics of discussion. He still knows not of this realization, and I cannot spare the half a heart I have to tell him. Is he a great guy? Yes, one hundred percent an amazing guy, but nothing will happen after boot camp.
My kryptonite is my impulsive need to be loved and constantly surrounded by praise. With my close college friend gone I felt the need to attempt to fill the hole left in my heart from where his praise and affection once sat. And in that dark hole came the pre boot camp boyfriend. Looking back I feel terrible for putting him through such unnecessary heartache, but I am destructive to everyone and everything around me. People should handle me with protective gloves and keep their distance to ensure their safety, but they do not. So the day before I left home for a number of months, my arms ran away to the safety of his home, snuggled in the top bunk of his bed, awaiting his return.
My mind went to my favorite person in the whole world, my little sister, but not as a loss, as a keepsake. Terrified of leaving home and everything I had ever known it fled into her welcoming arms for safe keeping until I visited home once again to collect it. For months she stored all our happy memories and childhood stories until the day finally came that I returned home and collected them once more. My leaving the house affected her the most of all, for in the past year we had grown rather close and she often told me she felt lost without our shit talking dog walks and late night sneaking into my room to tell me intimate details of her day.
I missed her just as much, when Christmas came and I was away from home I thought of our six am mission to sneak down the stairs and see the presents, and the way we would get each other gag gifts of stuffed sheep and ducks. And with that my mind stayed with her throughout my time at boot camp, so that even if everything else broke and ran away, a small shred of myself would still remain.
So what remains? What remains of the girl without legs, arms, and half a heart? Where does she go now? Without arms am defenseless to a number of attacks, and utterly helpless and completely dependent on others, but I'm trying hard not to be. Without legs I am managing, the crumbling base of praise still standing enough to give me hope to find a more permanent solution, and with half a heart I learned to guard it closer. Not as many people become close friends, for I only have half a heart left to give out, and I want to make sure that it goes to someone worthy. My mind was returned safely to me after months of being away, so that even though every other part of me was permanently gone, a small shred of myself remained. And that small shred was enough to motivate myself to start the long process of rebuilding what had been torn down.
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