Sometimes I wonder if she knows. If she does she hides it as well as I do, if she doesn't, she is in a way oblivious. Although we have a past together it's been long forgotten, but not by me. In a weird kind of way I miss those days. They were my exceptionally depressing days, but she always cared and that's what made them good. I've lost that feeling of goodness in my life. Although I've gained better, more productive feelings. I lost the feeling of being whole, the day I lost her. She was everything to me, I didn't call it obsession I called it love. She knew very little about my feelings for her. I told her my deepest secrets--well, the ones that didn't involve her. I told her about the physical and mental abuse that I suffered through out my childhood and the self mutilation I put myself through. I let her into my world of dark and ominous things. I trusted her. She called me her sunshine. Although I was depressed and she was the one calling me sunshine, she could always brightened my day, but the brightness never lasted. She was my drug and when I was feeling depressed or something like that, all I had to do was go to her and get my fix. Just seeing her almost always gave me a high. I'll never forget the day she said she loved me. Thinking back on it now I know she didn't really mean it. She would have said anything if she thought it would keep me alive and somewhat sane, although sanity was the farthest thing from my mind at that point. I had finally succeeded in tangling her in my screwed up web of suicidal deceit. I have done this before with various people, but still I told myself that this time it would not end like the others because I really loved this one.
I do give her credit though, she always cared: much to my liking. When she finally got me the help I needed, I was no longer in love, and she had broken my trust. She let someone inside my circle that I had tried so hard to keep a secret. I let her in and she invited others. What she would soon call the "professionals". I couldn't believe this. I knew I needed help at that point but I was resistant. Why would she do something like that to me? At the time I wasn't sure, now I know. She did it because she cared. Plus I was asking for help in a way most people could not understand, most people would be scared, she was not. Soon after that, the intruders came and broke down the wall that I protected myself with. Four Winds they said. Not a new concept. I had friends that have been there before. It sounded like a horrible place; while I was there I could not see her, but that was ok I hated her now.
I knew that life with out her would not be the same, I was not aware that it would be this much different. Although she had betrayed my trust I still had feelings for her, ones that I could not change. They were strong, strong emotions. Throughout the years I thought about her on occasion, especially every time I'd have to go to the hospital, because after all she was the one who had put me there in the first place. I went to the hospital 8 times that year, some of these times I was inpatient other times outpatient, but the treatment was no longer working. I continued to self mutilate and feel sorry for myself. I needed a place that could monitor my actions and behaviors for more than two weeks, and that could also monitor my medications. So I had to go to a day treatment facility, which I told people was a private school, because I was scared of what they might think if they knew where I really was. It just about killed me not to see her everyday. But I found a new love interest and I thought I had moved on.
Now three years later, I sit in the classroom of my public school as my old love rubs my back and I can't help but feel a little, no a lot, of confusion. Did she really ever forget the past we had or does she chose not to show that she remembers. I still struggle with the thoughts of self mutilation, and I'm saddened by the fact that we are no longer able to talk about those things. I've come along way since those days of obsessing over suicide. Sometimes I want to go back to the days where she took care of me. In a way I felt so safe in her arms, being fully aware that when she gone what I would do. I don't think she ever knew how much she meant to me. I feel as tough she herself saved me, it helped that I was willing at that point. I like to think that she had a greater impact on me than most people will ever have. She acts as though she doesn't remember and still today she goes on like nothing ever happened. She treats me as sweetly as ever and once in a great while she'll still call me her sunshine; showing me is some discrete way that she does remember. I can't help but guilty for feeling like she had betrayed me although in a way she did; now I know that it was for the better. With out the help she got me I may not be alive today. I can no longer speak as freely as I once did with her, but still to this day I feel something every time I hear the song "You are my Sunshine."