Old Enough to Understand

by Luna

Content Warning: Suicide, Self harm, Sexual assault, Rape, Depression

There are moments in my life where I believe the stars align and that life has so much love and adventure to explore. Where I point to the moon and share the beauty of the world with others. I notice the big things along with the little things. I appreciate the air I breathe in. I show how grateful I am for the people and love that I’ve received in life.

There are moments, such as now, where my heart begins to burn. Strangled with the trauma and insecurities. Fading into view from the shadows inside my mind. I feel the droplets of blood swirl into a pool of ashes. I never truly thought I would fall back into this state, but I’m starting to believe that with everything that has happened…I can’t hold it together much longer.

My goal of this year was to explore myself and my identity, regain my long-lost passions, create new memories, make new connections and take care of my mental health. The last statement was a big one for this year. The thought of possibly not being in this world anymore scares me. And at the same time…it soothes me. I know many people say, “You don’t actually want to die, you just want the pain to go away”. And while that’s true…I can’t help but wonder: “Why can’t I escape that demon inside my head? Why does death loom so close? It pulls me back while I’m trying to stay afloat”.

While I go to therapy every week or so…part of me has started to accept that the demon can’t fully be destroyed. It can only be tamed. Shackled into a cage. Yet the eyes glare behind my back. Chills tip-toe up my spine. The blade he passes, tempts me. And in the end…I gave in. Again.

Pain doesn’t scare me anymore. I feel like I deserve it. I stay in a toxic relationship. I pull myself out of one. Ending it. I find someone I finally click and connect with on a deeper and emotional level. They disappear only to find out later down the line that he had a tragedy. I desperately don’t want to miss out on social nights and new connections. People assume I’m popular and social. Objectively I guess I do come off as that…and yet I feel lonely even when around others. I listen to my friends and try the exciting “hookup phase” and end up with rape. I thought I learned my lesson after the sexual assault…I guess I’m not really ready for dating. I can’t even stand up for myself. No isn’t enough. I guess I really do have to get aggressive. Tell them to fuck off or threaten them.

Somehow when I’m fully undressed. Pushed down. Played with. I lose my voice. Apparently I’m loud on the outside, yet that doesn’t seem to be true when it comes to the bedroom. I’ve been told it’s normal to freeze. But hey, if the doctor tells me “I shouldn’t have allowed it without protection!” then whose fault is it really? I should’ve known. I should’ve stood up. I should’ve been harsher.

I touch the musical notes. The melodies of my youthfulness flutter out of my throat. The chords wither into minors. I’m old enough to understand…that while there is beauty in the world, there is also cruelty. I’m not sure which side to focus on at this point. I always tell people I’m an optimist…but when I’m chained down to all these problems I start to fall into a hole of depression.

I’m intense. Maybe not obvious at first, because of my outwardly, carefree nature. And yet this naive girl still wonders why she feels so lonely. A walking contradiction. A mind that runs through so much. Nonstop.

Taking the pill didn’t seem like something that I would have to do in my lifetime. I didn’t hold myself to be this kind of person. Did I really just do this because my friends told me to try out this newfound hookup culture? To forget about the guy that broke my heart? Apparently I come off as someone who can easily get many guys. Pretty privilege. I don’t want that though. I want connection. Intimacy. Not just sex.

Was there an underlying pain that I wanted to escape? Hoping to find that rare connection in someone else’s eyes. And yet the dreams I have…holding someone not only for their body but for their soul…doesn’t seem like a possibility anymore. What’s so great about this generation? Casual hookups seem so dumb to me. And yet, I gave into it.

I feel like a burden. I feel like I’m crazy. Too obsessive and passionate for someone who wouldn’t care the same for me. And yet, I don’t feel like it’s alright to feel this way. He has something so much harder that he’s facing in his life. I need to give him space. I am. So why can’t I move on? Why do places and things remind me of him? Why does my mind wander to memories or what ifs? If I could stop my heart from all these feelings…I would. I just want to have a life where I wouldn’t have to deal with such immature and irrational thoughts. I tell myself that these feelings are all my fault. A burden in the end. Who would even be able to handle this intensity? I haven’t really felt like I can really be someone’s. Too much to bare. Too much to know. Why would I unravel my petals to only lose the golden pool of love I hold?

I can see the gold trickle down the walls I hold in front of me. I keep grasping for the hope that I can truly bring someone into the inner corners of my soul…I feel someone pierce me from within. But their voice is so soft and sweet. Innocent, right? Then why does the pain turn into numbness? At this point I couldn’t care about my life. Might as well be an object to another man’s hands.

Sharpness from the piercing wasn’t only from within. It was also from the skin that released such pain. The euphoria of punishing myself. Being horrible. Being worthless. The punishment for my stupidity and faults don’t feel like enough. I feel like erasing myself would be the better punishment. I don’t belong in this constantly shifting world. I’d rather decompose into the earth and be forgotten like the rest.

Does writing truly help? It’s almost as if I’m rambling with a bit of metaphors and imagery. It literally is. How sad. It ends up to the point of writing it out like the little child, Luna, once did. Why did she stop? Not enough time? Or did it just feel useless? Like a waste of hours that didn’t amount to solving the issues at hand.

I don’t need to exist. I don’t need to breathe. I don’t need to see the little things. Because I don’t see the beauty like I used to anymore. I just see selfishness. I see demons unleashed from their cages. I thought they were tamed? They? There was more than one?

I couldn’t truly understand. Old enough to understand.