Misleading (The Other Side)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A personal experience with a personal experience.

Submitted: December 07, 2011

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Submitted: December 07, 2011



Everyone has dealt with someone they thought was cool, thought was great, and then turned around to feel like a toy, being used for fun. Everone has felt like the person who told them they loved them actually hated them. Everyone has been bullied, but few have been bullied by the person they thought cared about them. Everyone has been lied about, by someone who took the truth and stretched it into a massive hyperbole. Few have seen the twisted reaction of when they tell that person "No, I have had enough.". I began to break down weeks before I finally broke away, talking about how no matter what they said, the way they treated me around others made me feel inferior. They dominated me. They would pester me until I talked to them, then they would consume my days away. I couldn't go far without telling them or they would spam me. They sometimes would glare at me and threaten leaving me. I never wanted to be left alone, in a cold, dark world, thinking I needed them to live. But I began to grow indifferent to the world. I began to see the beauty of it when they weren't around. I began to see how much the people around me cared about me, and how that one person made my days dark, even if I told myself they made it brighter.  People would tell me that that person was horrible to me, they could see how awful they treated me. But nobody wanted to tell it to their face. I just tried to back them up, but I couldn't. That person began telling me how they loved me. I couldn't say that I didn't love them, so I tried to lie. I acted as though I never got the texts, then I finally gave in and replied, "I love you too." I had never felt so awful in my life. I hated lying to people. But I was afraid of what would happen otherwise. I feared they would taunt me for the rest of my life. I thought they would do everything they could to ruin my days, trying to make every second awkward for me. I feared they would spread rumors about me, or tell my secrets to everyone. I felt as though I couldn't trust them enough to leave them. Until finally, my best friend and sister from another mister told me "Just do it. Go and tell her. You don't deserve this." My memory is faint, so those aren't going to be the exact words, but that was her gist. And then I found out many of my friends and people they thought were their friends backed me up. I felt as though I was safe, surrounded by people who truly cared about me. Then, on a Thursday, I planned to strike. Only my sister and her boyfriend, one of my other best friends, knew that that was the day I was planning it. I only saw that person at lunch each day. I was ready as I walked into school that morning. But I left school that day with a pulled muscle in my back and still with them. Because that morning, when I sat with people who were my friends away from them, the bell rang, they came over, pestered me, then tried to pull the chair I was sitting in away from me. They tried to make me get up and leave. I wasn't ready and, instead of screaming at them, just groaned my normal way. So I tried again the next day. I talked to them about 15 minutes earlier before I actually did it, asking why they had pulled away the chair from beneath me. "I didn't do that!" They shot at me. I tried to argue the fact that there was a pulled muscle in my back, but couldn't. But at that point, I went back to my sister and her boyfriend, and prepared for the task ahead of me. I couldn't do it, I was too afraid. I just smiled fearfully and stood there as my sister and her boyfriend explained everything. I felt awful, not because I knew I was breaking their heart, they deserved it for how they treated me, but because I felt helpless in doing it myself. After my friends had finished, they only glared at me, grabbed their stuff, called me an asshole, shoulder-rammed my sister, and walked away. The relief I felt at that moment almost caused me to pass out. A week later they handed me the only love note I had given them, ripped to shreds. I tossed it in the trash, throwing away the last of that problem in my life. When I got home, I took the small stack of love notes they had given me, went out into the pasture behind my house, and burned them. My heart fluttered as the ink charred and smoked, knowing I was finally free.

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