I haven’t sat down and really written something from my heart in a while, so, hear goes nothing.
My girlfriend and I have been talking about my insecurity problem lately, and she asked me today why I was insecure. I dodged the question, partly because I thought she was stoned and I try to save the deep talks for clear heads, but mostly because I was taken aback by the question. I couldn’t recall anyone ever asking me about it before, ever.
So this is the part where I try to justify myself I think…
When I was younger, I didn’t have a lot of friends. I mean, I knew all the kids, but I never hung out with anyone. When I wasn’t at the torture chamber that school perpetually was for me, I was hiding in a book from my home life. See, I always wanted to be a superhero, but when your family is falling apart and you just can’t hold them together, it can shatter more than just a childish dream. I was never strong enough.
As I got older and the people around me started to mature, I was falling apart, nightmares greeting me whenever I opened and closed my eyes. I felt stuck, like the fighting would never end, like the screaming would never end, like I was stuck being silent in a place where anger would rise up and strike you down in an instant. I started to make friends, though, many left, many hurt me, and almost none (I can count two) stayed with me through everything. I cut myself away. My kryptonite, my blade. I wasn’t strong enough.
When high school started, it got a little easier for a while. When my parents announced the divorce, I was overjoyed. At last, my parents ceaseless fighting would come to a close. I felt a glimmer of hope. Somehow, through everything, I had still held onto that childhood dream of being a superhero, saving the ones I loved. I figured that if I just hung in there long enough everything would be okay. My heart was torn like an old blanket hung out in the rain, but the sun started to come through. I thought the pain was over. I let my guard down. I wasn’t strong enough.
I had been through two relationships, both safe and healthy, escapes at the time. I met someone new. She was different, and I was infatuated. But she was so much deeper into the hole of depression. She couldn’t beat it. I couldn’t save her. Eventually, after trying for six months and just watching her fade away into a darkness I couldn’t breach, I had to let her go. I thought it was what she wanted. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t bear to watch someone I cared about so much bleed so hard over every bad day. I became over one-hundred scars on that girl. I never saw her again. Something in me became even more broken. A healing wound had been ripped open like a victim of a wolf pack. I wasn’t strong enough.
My relationship with my mother, who had always been my savior, then started to fall apart. I was closer to her than anyone, and we began to hate each other. I couldn’t understand her anger, I was just growing up. I smoked away the frustration. Nicotine has always been a faithful friend, for a few extra dollars. I wasn’t strong enough.
After this new found pain and hatred for myself became a concrete part of my being, I found a cure for my destruction in another’s arms. She (and my closest friend at the time) truly broke me. Any shadow of confidence I’d had before was flushed away like shit. I was so low I could hardly stand. I tasted the black tar on my tongue religiously, and the knife blade was never distant. I had truly fallen apart. I wasn’t strong enough.
Eight months passed this way, slowly turning like a hibernating creature. Slowly, recovering.
After this emotional hiatus, i found what I never thought I’d feel again with my girlfriend, Sam<3
Everything was perfect. I was a hero to someone. I thought my insecurity of losing everyone I wanted to save would finally disappear. I thought I was coming out of the darkness.
I was so far off the mark.
I made a mistake. Something that seemed so trivial. Such a little thing. But such a huge thing. Something your parents warn you about before they tuck you in. The monster under your bed. I had created something so absolutely terrible for the both of us. I was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. I couldn’t even look in the mirror. I wasn’t strong enough.
All I ever wanted, and all I want now, is to be somebody’s hero. I want to save the day. I want to be loved like I save the day every day, from somebody. I know it’s naive, but there are more ridiculous dreams out there, and at least I held onto this through everything…
My family is broken so far past repair it’s almost humorous. I’m no longer on speaking terms with my mom. I have two true friends, but both are out of reach. All I have left in my heart is Her. And I’ve done her wrong in such a strong way that I hope all the way down to my bones that she never forgives me. I’ll never forgive myself for all of this that I’ve written about. I know I shouldn’t blame myself, but…
I couldn’t save my family. I was the reason for someone’s deepest pain and loss. I was betrayed by those closest to me. I completely fucked up with the woman I love more than anything in this whole world. I’ve never been able to hold onto a steady friendship. I have sick habits that I fight every single day. I’m the boy parents warn their children about. I break everything I touch. If there’s a God up there, she’s made it clear (in so many ways I haven’t even described) that I’m not wanted in this world. I’m the literal definition of a lowly fuck. I’m not strong enough…
So I ask this; How can I not be insecure? I was supposed to save the people I love. I’m no superhero. I’m just another boy at the feet of the world with nothing going for me but my mistakes, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, my love gives me another chance to make things perfect.
My dream is in shreds. But I never gave up. I’ll always try too hard to save my world. I’ll never be strong enough. But maybe if they could all see how hard I’m trying, than maybe someday I can be somebody’s hero.
Maybe someday I’ll be her hero…
