“It’s not going to happen again” is what I keep telling myself but the fear that lingers, the doubts that hide, even the smallest chance of possibility rises from the dark and engulfs all the light.
I keep telling myself, “I will never put myself in the position again”, “That will never be me”, and “Never. Again.” but it keeps coming back. The past returns into the present, and therefore the future, and haunts me as I try my hardest to get past what had happened in the past.
“That will never be me” I kept saying. “I will never do that” I repeated to myself. But it never would matter how many times I would say the sentences I wanted so badly to believe to be true. I will always come back and wonder whether they were lies instead of what could be the truth.
I start to see similarities and I start to see the patterns as they rise amongst my many actions throughout one day. I start to doubt myself and how pure my heart is as I start to see the darkness in the light. I start to give in to the fear and back up from any situation, any circumstance, that had a possibility of proving my fears true.
And my fears were these:
I would become the mother I despised, who never saw beauty in her daughter the minute her skin was not perfection but damaged with the scar that saved her life. I would return to the girlfriend dependent on her significant other, who begged and begged for him to remain hers, to love her, to care for her, to be there for her, to see the light where she only saw darkness, to remind her that everything would be okay. I would return to the helpless daughter who didn’t know any better than to hide in her room and blast music to her ears as she tried to muffle out the screaming from downstairs.
I don’t want that. “That will never be me again” I keep telling myself, despite all the times I see her within me. She is still there; the weakness, the doubts, the fears are all still there. And together they hold me down from seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, to see the light that is so obviously there.
“That will never be me again” I repeat like a record on replay in my head as I go about my days. “It’s not going to happen again”, “I will never be in that position again”, “Not me.”
But despite how many times I repeat these sentences like a chant, despite how much I want it to be true, it returns.
I stare at the scars on my body and the thoughts seep into my mind and say, “You were never pretty because the scars on your body were there since day one.”, “If she never believed you had beauty, who would bother to see past your skin?”
I examine the relationship with the one I have come to care for and have to repeat to myself this, “Don’t beg for him to stay when his heart is not here but there.”, “Never ask him to stick by your side because if he wanted to, if he truly wanted to, he would without you nagging at his mind.”
I arrive to the house I have lived in for years but never believed it was “home” and have to do the exact same thing I did years before, “Drown out them and you can pretend it’s not happening”, “Put the music just a little bit louder so you can’t feel the pain from inside.”
What do they say? History repeats itself.