The very first time it happened, it was the night of a party we were invited to. It’s hard to remember everything that happened, but I remember it was something about her. Everything we argued about was her. And when we were arguing, yelling, doors locked and everything, it turned into something more. The strap of my blouse was torn off, I had a big swollen knot on the back of my head that throbbed and throbbed. But my hair hid it, so you couldn’t see. That was the first night, and I remember who was there. They listened, and they did what I said. They called the police when I yelled for them to, and when they finally got there, I lied. I can’t believe I lied. I don’t know why I did it, but it would have saved me from later on. I should have just followed through.

The next time it happened, I know our friend saw. I was joking around with him, but he was in a bad mood. I wasn’t making fun of him, I swear, but he was just so mad that day. So he grabbed me by the neck and told me to shut the fuck up. I couldn’t breathe, so I just cried when he let me go. Our friend never said anything about it, and neither did I, neither did we. It just went away like everything else that happened.

It was when we left our friend’s house one night, after we all hung out for a little bit. I don’t remember what had happened, but I think I wanted to leave and he didn’t, so he wanted to call her. I was upset so I drove away, but he took off, walking. I should have just kept going, but silly me, I always stopped and tried to make things better. I can’t just leave things bad, you know? But somehow when I tried to convince him to just get back in the car, it made him more mad. He had just wanted me to leave him alone, and I should have, and maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad. I tried pulling him back, but I ended up ripping his shirt. He got mad and kept trying to walk so I finally gave up, but as I approached my car, he ran up to me and grabbed me and threw me into it. I had to lie to my mom about those dents on my door. I tried to get up, and you know that feeling you get when somebody hits you, and you feel like you need to hit back? I did that, but I made it worse. He just did it again, and this time the dent was bigger. So I gave up once more, and tried to leave. But this time, he decided to finally get back in the car. I ran to the door quickly, it was like one of those scenes in a horror movie where you don’t get there quite quickly enough, because he got into the back seat. I tried to turn the car on, but he grabbed my hair with one hand, and with the other, he began choking me. He let go when I began sobbing. He got back in the front seat and I took him home. I didn’t know what to do, I was scared for myself, for my life. 

The very last time it happened, it was because I was late. He hated when I was late. I don’t know why, I really don’t, but he hated it anyways. We were heading towards the mall but you know when someone is in a bad mood, and you don’t want to deal with it? That’s how I felt. I didn’t want to deal with it so I just wanted to go back home. So we did, which made him mad. I told him to stop acting like a baby, and he told me not to call him that. So he put the gear in reverse while I was driving, and I broke really hard so that I wouldn’t hit the car behind me. I asked him what the fuck his problem was, and he just looked at me, and out of instinct, I slapped him. He deserved it, honestly. But that was when he punched me. He broke my glasses, then realized what he did, and tried to fix it. He tried apologizing but I made him get out of the car. He did, but he hung onto the outside and started swinging off of it, so I had to stop and he hopped right back in. He seemed amused by all of this, and I just told him that it was over. We were through. It felt so good saying that, finally. But he snatched my glasses off my face again — after fixing them — and left a few scratches this time. They were broken completely and I couldn’t stop crying. He kept saying, “Why the fuck are you crying, huh?!” and I just told him because he was an asshole. So trying to get him back to his house to finally leave him, he reached his foot over and tried to step on the gas pedal so we could crash, but I caught it. I rolled down the window and luckily the neighbors were out, so I started screaming for them to help me. But nobody helped, they just stared at me. He got out of the car, and it was then that he pulled out a baggie he had, which had marijuana in it, and he prepared to dump it all over my mom’s car. He looked at me intently, and said, “Are you ready? Your life is going to be over.” I just looked at him and asked, “Why do you always have to take someone down with you? Why can’t you just leave me alone and let me be happy without you?” He had this look on his face, and he just clenched his jaw and slammed the door shut. I took a deep breath and drove away, never looking back.

How could I put myself through all of that? How could I feel like I loved someone that terrible for so long? Someone like that doesn’t deserve any of the good anyone or anything in this world has to offer. I guess love really is blind, you know? It has to be, to be able to overlook the monster that someone has become, and still feel like they’re going to be better someday. All I have to say is that, they’re never going to better. People like that don’t change for anything or anyone. People like that are selfish.

I used to be the girl that carried herself with more pride than that, with more sense. And stupid me for not seeing any of the bad sooner than I did, but I’m happy that it’s all over now. I used to always think that if something like that ever happened, that I could just walk away, but it’s a lot harder to do than you think. I just hope that this shows someone else to have enough sense when it comes to something like this. People like that say they love you, but they don’t love you.

Love isn’t control. Love is something sacred, pure. Love is unconditional and love makes you happy. Love never makes you sad, ever. Even when you argue or whatever, things should always be happy again right after, nothing should ever be sore.

I know it sounds weird, but it’s a good thing something like that happened so soon, because it’s as if nothing could ever hurt me again, nothing could hurt me as much as he did. Physically, mentally, emotionally. I’m better now, I’m happy again, I’m me.

I love me… so much, and it took me too long to realize it.