deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Worst Pain So Far
I had been in the best mood I could've ever been in. The air was turning chilly outside that Saturday, but I was all warm and fuzzy inside. I'd just spent an amazing day with my boyfriend of nearly ten months. We hadn't really had a plan when we went out, just to grab a bite to eat and hang out together. We went to our little place behind a semi remote graveyard in a tiny nearby town to have a little fun before we headed to the Mi Pueblos. I wasn't that hungry, but I didn't care. I was with someone I regarded as the most amazing guy in the world. Whenever I was with him all my worries and cares seemed to disappear. He made me happy. We spent the rest of our little date going in a couple random stores and just walking around. Whenever we got back to his GMC pickup truck I'd occasionally slip a Jell-O shot from what he'd brought from a buddy's house. On our way back home we stopped by the cemetery again and had some of the best sex we'd both ever had. When I got home at last, right before the wintery sun set early, I walked in my front door a happy girl.
Later that evening he and I were on the phone, and he gave me a hilarious bit of irony. Three of our friends, all girls, had been hanging out and drinking with his next door neighbors the night before. He hadn't been with them because he'd been helping his friend prepare the Jell-O shots for a party he was going to throw. Anyway, all three of these girls ended up making out with each other. The ironic part? They'd all been wary of me, worried that I'd try to do something to them if I spent the night at their house just because I'm bisexual. He had the idea to go on Facebook and post a status about it. It went a little something like "The irony in life when 3 of the main girls that were making fun of my gf for being bi, all ended up making out with each other." That in itself was find by me; I was clutching my stomach from laughing too hard. (I'd had a bit too much caffeine) The shit storm brewed when he tagged them in the status. Luckily, the post got taken down a couple hours later, and an apologetic one went up the next day before things got too crazy. Little did I know a little bit drama over a few not-so-secretive freaks wouldn't be the worst event of my weekend.
Fast forward to Sunday night, he and I were on the phone again. Everything was fine; I was still in my happy mood leftover from the day before. I don't recall what we'd been talking about before-hand, but I know the following conversation went a little something like this:
"Baby, you know you're amazing right?" He queried, as he so often did, so I didn't think much of it.
But I still smiled. "No, I'm not," I replied, honestly believing what I said, thinking for a moment of some mistakes I'd made in flirting with girls and sending a dirty pic to a guy I now hated. I regretted all the things I did, and I knew it had crushed him when I confessed to him out of guilt and pure self-hatred. Anyway, back to the dialogue.
"Yes, you are, baby. You're the most amazing girl in the world, and that's why I don't deserve you," he insisted.
Still, I didn't think much of what he said, even though it made me happy. We'd had these types of little bantering often enough. "No, I'm not, I'm the one that doesn't deserve you. I've fucked up so much, and you still stayed with me."
"I've fucked up too," he said sheepishly. He was referring to a drunken night when he made out with another girl, who coincidentally, was one of the three girls previously mentioned.
"I know, but at least you had the balls to own up to it the day after it happened. I waited too long to own up to my fuck up," I pointed out, determined to win this argument.
He paused for a moment. "Yeah, but I didn't tell you the whole truth."
That stopped my prepared retort in its tracks. My heart immediately froze. "What do you mean," I asked cautiously in a low tone.
"About that night with S_____ and them," he said vaguely.
"Okay, what about it? You admitted you made out with her, and I forgave you," I was preparing myself for the worst.
"Well, it was more than that," he said guiltily.
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"Um..." he searched for the right words.
"You didn't fuck her did you?!"
"Well, no. It was the steps like... Between making out and actually having sex," he was still being vague.
"Baby, what exactly did you do?" I questioned, still strangely calm.
"I fingered her... And ate her out for like a few seconds..."
"Okay. I'm glad you told me. I'm not leaving you," I said, mind already made up that I was going to stay.
"I wasn't finished."
"What do you mean?" I said, assuming my cautious voice again.
"I fingered her a little again the next day," he finished.
"Sober?!"
"Yeah." He answered. "Baby, I'm so sorry, I wanted to tell you before I just..."
"Did she do anything to you besides kiss you?" I asked, getting territorial.
"No, baby, she didn't do anything to me."
"Would you have told me about this if they hadn't sort of threatened to blackmail you?" I asked him calmly. By 'they', I meant the three girls. I remembered two of them telling the day before that they knew horrible things about him too, but they wouldn't tell me what.
"Yes!" He insisted with a sigh. "I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. They just gave me the little push I needed. I know you're probably really mad and hurt right now, but I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you..." Or something of that nature. I don't remember the rest of the conversation clearly, but I know my mind was playing it off that we were even in both our fuck ups. I was calm, and even laughing. I do remember him sounding both cautious and confused saying, "I don't get it. You were more upset about us just making out than this. I don't know if I'm just in the calm before the storm, or I've hurt you so much you're used to it, which is worse."
Calm before the storm would be the caption for that night. The next day was the when it finally hit me: I'd been legitimately cheated on and lied to. That Monday was one of the absolute worst days of my life. I was crushed. I spent the day crying off and on. I'd be trying to cook something in the kitchen for lunch, and I'd sink to the floor in tears while I was waiting. Every time I had to be in front of my mama or papa I'd have to dry my eyes and pretend everything was okay. My mind exploded with every little detail of how messed up the whole situation was. My mistake was horrible and I still regretted it, but in my mind, his was worse. I'd never touched another guy. I'd admitted to my dirty picture out of pure guilt. He'd told me the whole truth motivated by fear of blackmail. He'd sworn he'd done nothing else with her that night other that make out. And then the next day? Sober? The thoughts just kept pouring in and overtook me. The more I thought about it the angrier I got. I told my best friend everything. She told me I should leave him, that a cheater is always a cheater. I thought of my mistakes, and thought if I can honestly regret something and never do it again, why can't he? My inner battle continued. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't. I wanted to find him and break every bone in his body, but I knew I wouldn't even if I could. I thought of the little bitch I thought was my friend, and my hatred grew. Halfway through the day and my blood was boiling and I was shaking from anger. On top of that, Papa was in one of his hateful moods, and his verbal abuse added to my horrible day. I got told I wasn't good enough when I was trying to help, and that I was crap when I already felt like I was. I went in and out of his room doing things. Second time I went back to the kitchen, my vision was blurry from angry tears, and I punched the first thing I saw that was eye level with me, which happened to be the refrigerator. I didn't break my hand, but it hurt for the next couple days after that. Third time I went to Papa's room, I ended up in an argument and I lost it. I just stomped out the back door into the cold, crying. I felt miserable. The two guys that were supposed to love me more than any other guy in the world would had let me down. My heart felt scattered in a million pieces, and I couldn't even think straight to think of what to do. I blindly ignored my beloved cats and went about kicking and destroying a plastic bucket that happened to be in my wandering path. Mama was calling to me from the back door trying to comfort me and get me back inside. (She thought all that was wrong was Papa.) My iPod touch was making noises, reminding me that I'd left him hanging in our scattered text conversation. I didn't care.
I finally went back inside and I found snapchats from the one girl I wanted to murder on my screen. I'd blown up the My Story feature of the app with my vaguely short rants. I remember saying that I wanted to beat a bitches ass and couple other things. My face was anything but welcoming. Her expression was as if I was a child throwing a tantrum over a cookie. She had the nerve to tell me I needed to "calm down", "we were drunk and he wanted to touch me", "it's over and you forgave us remember?", "you're stupid for still being with him," and all this other shit. I told her straight up how I felt about her and just stopped replying. I was infuriated. My muscles were tensed, my eyes stung, my whole body shook, and my mind was screaming silently at me. I didn't know why I still cared about him. I didn't know why I didn't just leave. I didn't know the reason for any of what I was feeling. I felt betrayed. I felt like a hypocrite because I wasn't completely innocent either. Horrible was an understatement as to how I felt.
My angry energy finally melted down later that night on the phone with him. I wasn't murderous. I wasn't looking for revenge. I didn't want to fight. The anger dissolved into pure hurt and disappointment.
It's been a few weeks, and I still cry nearly every night. I don't admit this fact easily. The sad mood comes and goes. It skips me some nights. It dissolves almost completely when I'm with him. I know I love him. I want to be able to trust him again. I want us to be okay.
But I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be happy again because every time I am something goes horribly wrong. I'm afraid of being hurt, because this is the worst pain I've ever felt.
The one person who's seen me naked in every way... Physically, mentally, and emotionally.
The person I'm not ashamed to cry in front of.
The one person who trusted me with his darkest secrets and weirdest quirks.
The person I can be myself completely around.
One of the very few people I'd have trusted with anything, even my life.
The person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life and I still do.
The one who made this mess of me... Is the only one who can fix what was broken.
I can't let him go. I won't. He's MINE.
Later that evening he and I were on the phone, and he gave me a hilarious bit of irony. Three of our friends, all girls, had been hanging out and drinking with his next door neighbors the night before. He hadn't been with them because he'd been helping his friend prepare the Jell-O shots for a party he was going to throw. Anyway, all three of these girls ended up making out with each other. The ironic part? They'd all been wary of me, worried that I'd try to do something to them if I spent the night at their house just because I'm bisexual. He had the idea to go on Facebook and post a status about it. It went a little something like "The irony in life when 3 of the main girls that were making fun of my gf for being bi, all ended up making out with each other." That in itself was find by me; I was clutching my stomach from laughing too hard. (I'd had a bit too much caffeine) The shit storm brewed when he tagged them in the status. Luckily, the post got taken down a couple hours later, and an apologetic one went up the next day before things got too crazy. Little did I know a little bit drama over a few not-so-secretive freaks wouldn't be the worst event of my weekend.
Fast forward to Sunday night, he and I were on the phone again. Everything was fine; I was still in my happy mood leftover from the day before. I don't recall what we'd been talking about before-hand, but I know the following conversation went a little something like this:
"Baby, you know you're amazing right?" He queried, as he so often did, so I didn't think much of it.
But I still smiled. "No, I'm not," I replied, honestly believing what I said, thinking for a moment of some mistakes I'd made in flirting with girls and sending a dirty pic to a guy I now hated. I regretted all the things I did, and I knew it had crushed him when I confessed to him out of guilt and pure self-hatred. Anyway, back to the dialogue.
"Yes, you are, baby. You're the most amazing girl in the world, and that's why I don't deserve you," he insisted.
Still, I didn't think much of what he said, even though it made me happy. We'd had these types of little bantering often enough. "No, I'm not, I'm the one that doesn't deserve you. I've fucked up so much, and you still stayed with me."
"I've fucked up too," he said sheepishly. He was referring to a drunken night when he made out with another girl, who coincidentally, was one of the three girls previously mentioned.
"I know, but at least you had the balls to own up to it the day after it happened. I waited too long to own up to my fuck up," I pointed out, determined to win this argument.
He paused for a moment. "Yeah, but I didn't tell you the whole truth."
That stopped my prepared retort in its tracks. My heart immediately froze. "What do you mean," I asked cautiously in a low tone.
"About that night with S_____ and them," he said vaguely.
"Okay, what about it? You admitted you made out with her, and I forgave you," I was preparing myself for the worst.
"Well, it was more than that," he said guiltily.
"What do you mean?" I demanded.
"Um..." he searched for the right words.
"You didn't fuck her did you?!"
"Well, no. It was the steps like... Between making out and actually having sex," he was still being vague.
"Baby, what exactly did you do?" I questioned, still strangely calm.
"I fingered her... And ate her out for like a few seconds..."
"Okay. I'm glad you told me. I'm not leaving you," I said, mind already made up that I was going to stay.
"I wasn't finished."
"What do you mean?" I said, assuming my cautious voice again.
"I fingered her a little again the next day," he finished.
"Sober?!"
"Yeah." He answered. "Baby, I'm so sorry, I wanted to tell you before I just..."
"Did she do anything to you besides kiss you?" I asked, getting territorial.
"No, baby, she didn't do anything to me."
"Would you have told me about this if they hadn't sort of threatened to blackmail you?" I asked him calmly. By 'they', I meant the three girls. I remembered two of them telling the day before that they knew horrible things about him too, but they wouldn't tell me what.
"Yes!" He insisted with a sigh. "I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. They just gave me the little push I needed. I know you're probably really mad and hurt right now, but I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you..." Or something of that nature. I don't remember the rest of the conversation clearly, but I know my mind was playing it off that we were even in both our fuck ups. I was calm, and even laughing. I do remember him sounding both cautious and confused saying, "I don't get it. You were more upset about us just making out than this. I don't know if I'm just in the calm before the storm, or I've hurt you so much you're used to it, which is worse."
Calm before the storm would be the caption for that night. The next day was the when it finally hit me: I'd been legitimately cheated on and lied to. That Monday was one of the absolute worst days of my life. I was crushed. I spent the day crying off and on. I'd be trying to cook something in the kitchen for lunch, and I'd sink to the floor in tears while I was waiting. Every time I had to be in front of my mama or papa I'd have to dry my eyes and pretend everything was okay. My mind exploded with every little detail of how messed up the whole situation was. My mistake was horrible and I still regretted it, but in my mind, his was worse. I'd never touched another guy. I'd admitted to my dirty picture out of pure guilt. He'd told me the whole truth motivated by fear of blackmail. He'd sworn he'd done nothing else with her that night other that make out. And then the next day? Sober? The thoughts just kept pouring in and overtook me. The more I thought about it the angrier I got. I told my best friend everything. She told me I should leave him, that a cheater is always a cheater. I thought of my mistakes, and thought if I can honestly regret something and never do it again, why can't he? My inner battle continued. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn't. I wanted to leave, but I couldn't. I wanted to find him and break every bone in his body, but I knew I wouldn't even if I could. I thought of the little bitch I thought was my friend, and my hatred grew. Halfway through the day and my blood was boiling and I was shaking from anger. On top of that, Papa was in one of his hateful moods, and his verbal abuse added to my horrible day. I got told I wasn't good enough when I was trying to help, and that I was crap when I already felt like I was. I went in and out of his room doing things. Second time I went back to the kitchen, my vision was blurry from angry tears, and I punched the first thing I saw that was eye level with me, which happened to be the refrigerator. I didn't break my hand, but it hurt for the next couple days after that. Third time I went to Papa's room, I ended up in an argument and I lost it. I just stomped out the back door into the cold, crying. I felt miserable. The two guys that were supposed to love me more than any other guy in the world would had let me down. My heart felt scattered in a million pieces, and I couldn't even think straight to think of what to do. I blindly ignored my beloved cats and went about kicking and destroying a plastic bucket that happened to be in my wandering path. Mama was calling to me from the back door trying to comfort me and get me back inside. (She thought all that was wrong was Papa.) My iPod touch was making noises, reminding me that I'd left him hanging in our scattered text conversation. I didn't care.
I finally went back inside and I found snapchats from the one girl I wanted to murder on my screen. I'd blown up the My Story feature of the app with my vaguely short rants. I remember saying that I wanted to beat a bitches ass and couple other things. My face was anything but welcoming. Her expression was as if I was a child throwing a tantrum over a cookie. She had the nerve to tell me I needed to "calm down", "we were drunk and he wanted to touch me", "it's over and you forgave us remember?", "you're stupid for still being with him," and all this other shit. I told her straight up how I felt about her and just stopped replying. I was infuriated. My muscles were tensed, my eyes stung, my whole body shook, and my mind was screaming silently at me. I didn't know why I still cared about him. I didn't know why I didn't just leave. I didn't know the reason for any of what I was feeling. I felt betrayed. I felt like a hypocrite because I wasn't completely innocent either. Horrible was an understatement as to how I felt.
My angry energy finally melted down later that night on the phone with him. I wasn't murderous. I wasn't looking for revenge. I didn't want to fight. The anger dissolved into pure hurt and disappointment.
It's been a few weeks, and I still cry nearly every night. I don't admit this fact easily. The sad mood comes and goes. It skips me some nights. It dissolves almost completely when I'm with him. I know I love him. I want to be able to trust him again. I want us to be okay.
But I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be happy again because every time I am something goes horribly wrong. I'm afraid of being hurt, because this is the worst pain I've ever felt.
The one person who's seen me naked in every way... Physically, mentally, and emotionally.
The person I'm not ashamed to cry in front of.
The one person who trusted me with his darkest secrets and weirdest quirks.
The person I can be myself completely around.
One of the very few people I'd have trusted with anything, even my life.
The person I wanted to be with for the rest of my life and I still do.
The one who made this mess of me... Is the only one who can fix what was broken.
I can't let him go. I won't. He's MINE.
Published 10th Dec 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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10th Dec 2013 9:17am
This one I'm actually open for edits and proof reading. I liked the way it started but as I kept writing I started crying and it turned into an outpour. If anyone could guide me as to making the bad part more short story like. Yeah.... Sorry unloading straight personal drama on you guys... The ones that take the time to read this anyway.
10th Dec 2013 10:42am
you can't keep it all bottled up hun, bad for the soul to carry so much and not have an outlet for it.
I can tell you that there's much worse pain out there though... here if you need to talk about whatever xo
I can tell you that there's much worse pain out there though... here if you need to talk about whatever xo
2nd Jan 2014 8:10am
I didn't mind reading your "out poor", but I will say if he was blackmailed and that was the only rsn he told u, wat else is he keeping from you ?. He didn't tell u in the first place for fear of u leaving him. He kept it from u to keep himself happy. He is very selfish and if he thinks he can get away with cheating on you he will. Be strong and walk away. Eventually he'll come back around and beg for you to take him back, but until he does make him learn his lesson. And FYI what you did is nothing compared to what he did. You owned up the very next day and im sure by his reaction to it you learned you would never do It again. Don't even compare those things. He knows you should walk away and leave him and he's just hoping you don't. He don't deserve you. Sorry for my "outpoor" lol
2nd Jan 2014 8:35am
Actually I didn't tell him the next day... I waited at least 2 maybe 3 months.
And I know I'm playing with fire and I might get burned but I'm a fool in love. I can't help it.
And I know I'm playing with fire and I might get burned but I'm a fool in love. I can't help it.
2nd Jan 2014 9:28am
2nd Jan 2014 9:55am
