It's not that I don't love you, it's the beer bottles that were left shattered on the floor when I was 9, and my father's screaming coming from the other room. My mother is not coming home till late at night, hearing screams, calling her a "pig" and a "whore", and seeing her still cry when he left, understanding that even when someone hurts you, it still hurts when it leaves. I think he stole every happy thing she had, and that's why she started drinking.
It's not that I don't love you, it's the day I came into the basement and saw my brother covered in his own blood, the pills that were supposed to help in his hand like a vice. The blood soaked into the rug. the hours in the hospital, 2 whole days of waiting in a room, white but still feeling dirty. finding out that he had done it for love, because the girl he loved said he was nothing to her. I understood then that love wasn't meant to last or stay.
It's not that I don't love you, it's the day I found my best friend's wrists slit like paper, crying in the school bathroom after her boyfriend called her a slut for the top she wore to the dance. For the three hours we spent after cleaning up, looking for a new top that would not only cover her chest more, but also her arms. She still doesn't look at her body the same. I understood then that love hurts you more than it heals. It's not that I don't love you, it's the year my aunt went to the mental hospital because she felt ashamed that her husband couldn't love her like he loved the 19-year-old girl he left her for. When she came back, her eyes were gray, but she stayed smiling. Then I understood that nothing can heal a broken heart.
It's not that I don't love you, it's the boy I had a crush on in the 4th grade who called me a "fat cow" and a "piggily whore". Those words that he laughed off made me realize I could starve myself into being enough. That if I wither away just enough, I could be the right size and shape for him to like me.
Its not that I don't love you its the fear that comes with it.
