[trigger warning: sexual assault]
Although he stated it over and over again, I never truly believed it until he had pressed his heavy body onto mine and whispered in my ear, “I want to show you how much I love you.”
In that moment, I was innately aware of the size of the world. I could feel us spinning through space, the world’s musicians playing in rhythm with his body. I know we are small.
But me – I was the smallest small of them all.
I remembered his frail grandmother down just a flight of stairs, and how much she reminded me of my own grandmother, with her white hair and kind eyes. I don’t remember why I didn’t scream.
It’s true that I haven’t been the same since my grandmother died, nor have I been the same since the day I trusted him with a little too much of myself. I guess that you could say I died right there on his black futon, dressed in my knee socks and combat boots.
I know that I could’ve kicked the shit out of him with those scuffed-toe boots, and I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe I was too busy watching him suck up the taste of nicotine, letting the burning in his lungs carry him back home.
Now some days are better than others, but they’re all just that – days. I know how to write a swan song when I become the woman crying on public transportation, and to the boyish girl struggling to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t need anyone to take away my loneliness, I just needed to find a way to talk to it.
I want to learn how to not feel so small anymore, but I don’t know how. Between heavenly bodies and crisp blue sheets, I found solace and relief, but I’m not sure how far that will take me. And I’m ready to let it all go.