I was a 20 year old college student
I was a 20 year old college student at a stellar university with a bright future ahead of me. I felt invincible - I mean, don’t we all in our 20s? I was invincible, that is, until I got pregnant. This was the type of stuff that happens in movies, not to an average girl like me - I’m never the unfortunate statistic. Until you actually are just another unfortunate statistic. I never in my lifetime thought I’d have to terminate a pregnancy. But being at the stage of my life that I was, there was no way I could take on the responsibility of a baby. So I got rid of it. Drugged up, out of it, and in pain - I slept for awhile after it was over. I thought that would be it, that was the end. I’m free! Wrong. It haunts you for days after, weeks, heck, it’s been months and I’m still burdened by it. And the worst part is that the man who was apart of this mess seems to be freed. He’s on cloud 9 with his new girlfriend while I’m stagnant, trapped. I want to scream at him. How can you move on while I’m over here buried in the guilt of my actions, what we’ve done. What I’ve done. I really do think about it everyday. I find myself unable to touch another man nor be touched by him without feeling undeserving and disgusted at myself afterwards. I feel dirty - not in terms of hygiene but in a way that’s not even describable, it doesn’t make much sense. I feel broken. I can’t really be open with anyone around me because no one understands it and it’s shameful to talk about. I can’t let myself fall in anything remotely close to love because I’m too ashamed with myself to accept anything like that. I have anxiety now and I regularly touch my wrist to make sure my heart’s still beating. I think about everything more than you’d imagine. It’s just so weird...I’ve created and destroyed and I’ve only been alive for 20 years. There has been both life and death inside me, and I can’t even describe how each feels. I can’t seem to move on from it. But it’s my fault. I want to talk to him, I want to send him every letter I’ve drafted but never sent, I want to tell him every word I’ve repeatedly told the walls in my room, but I can’t. Why were we both players in this game but I’m the only one who carries its weight. Why can you run free and find happiness and love but I’m stuck here, crushed from the atrocity of it all. It all fell on me. Can’t you ask me how I’m doing. Ask what you can do to help. I have no one to talk to about it, you’re the only one who understands what scars me everyday. I long to tell my mom and dad, my sisters, I want to tell them everything so bad but I can’t tell them and it destroys me. I can’t put this weight on them, it’s just not fair. I have to carry it on my own. It gets better, it does. But making sense of it all and learning how to cope with it - it’s no easy task.