A Letter to the One Who taught Me

Dear No Name,

This is addressed to you. You who never even bothered to give me a name.

The one who not only took. But wounded and maimed.

This letter is for all the lessons you taught, all of the pain that you caused, all of the scars that you brought.

You taught me a lot of things and I’ll be long gone when you get this. 

So just for this moment I stole away just to say: you and me we just don’t fit.

I try to show you love but you can’t commit.

This... thing... that we have, is not a healthy "relationship" and I don’t think you nor I will EVER be equipped.

So I'm going to take one last walk with you down memory lane. Because I'll never  again visit all of the places we've been.

We meant in Kindergartener, and  I could already read, but I, unable to read through your spell of confusion, simply fell for your optical illusion.

 I was way too young for your experience. I never knew that before me, you had  hurt other friends. Your quote-on-quote “love” it took my innocence.

As I was myself and the teachers yelled or laughed and kids followed suit, I believed every word as the absolute truth.

You made me self-conscious about my face, my mind, my hair. Pulling and poking at fat that wasn’t even there. 

Asking: why don’t I wear what other kids wear?  

You taught me:

Lesson # 1: I am not Good enough, my flaws are too many... to wish away into thin air .

At seven I ate more and more food and pinched my body, hating the fat that was now there. You made me believe that I was ugly and no one cared. And when the monsters came I kept my mouth shut.   Because you made me believe that my truth was best hushed. I  deserved to be battered. 

You taught me:

Lesson # 2: I do not, will not, and never really  mattered.

You were there when I  was about to turn tweleve . And my parents love  was now stale and long torn. And told me that I was the reason and Made me ask: Why was I even born?

I threw away opportunities, afraid of my own skills.  

Because you pointed out what others said, and it took away all of my will.

My hand shook, as I yelled: “Why can’t I swallow these stupid pills?!

My dreams kicked you and my hopes they tirelessly fought 

But still...

You taught me:

Lesson # 3: Everything will be my fault.

You were there at 17, although quieter, but still. But I heard you in the teacher’s voice that I looked up too. When he told me, I was worthless...weird and it was sad because I hadn’t a clue.  His voice still echoes “Get some business about yourself.” You tell me don’t even try, because it’s no use, just be somebody else. My voice somehow fights its way from my mouth and a starchy come back squeaks out  and I leave, pretending that my heart was intact and not under his feet.

He made me cry and I hadn't cried in years and you made me the reason for my tears.

  You yell: What is wrong with you?!!!  Stop trusting so much!!!  NO ONE is your friend but me, give it up!!!

Just get a clue, get a clue, GET, A… CLUE….!!!!!

Why can’t you do what the other kids do?!!!! I

I cry and cry until my ears ring.

You taught me:

Lesson # 4: I can’t be me, I’ll never be THEM, so I shouldn't  try to be anything.

I tried to play sports trying to do what I loved. They said I was good but you said "not good enough."

No matter what I did, the plays never stuck, coaches yelled “You’re not trying! They and the others laughed, so I just gave up.

You taught me:

Lesson # 5: Revisit  Lesson # 1-change  I' m not to...I’ll NEVER be good enough. 

At 18 we were in college on scholarship, school days before had made me tired and I wanted to take a year.

You said if I did, I would be a just another quitter and that I had other people’ s feelings to consider.

With me I had taken every hurt every, pain and thought that they were my weapon and I pushed away how I felt.

Than with each “C", "D" and "B” I made. You broke down every past box on the shelf and told me that failure was the hand I was dealt.

You told me every day after: I will never be a doctor, I’m done, I’m to broken to help anyone.  Nothing stuck, my mind was too slow.  I smiled praying that no one finds out what I already know.

You taught me:

Lesson # 6: All of the "planning" that I did , I was just wishing and hoping. My mind isn't sharp enough. I’m just  far too... broken.

I’m 24 now,  6 years into college, I have been homeless, jobless, but not hopeless.

All the while you  tell me “You are worthless”

  I’m not where I want with a B GPA average,  and only a few degrees  down.

People say that I’m smart and that I should be proud. You say: how sad, you should be almost a doctor now. Instead you failed Nursing school and are on your second try. Who thinks you’re smart… no not you...no not I.

You can’t get a job, you’ll never get to your dreams, everyone else isn’t struggling. You can’t work and go to your classes. You’re barely passing ...oh well, your dreams were fun while they lasted.

You taught me:

Lesson # 7:  Don't reach for the sky. I'm destined for the bottom and my dreams are way to high.

For a while I tried to quit, but then I thought: “Why do I have to accept the lessons you taught?”

So now here I sit... writing this letter, because now I realize that we are no good together.  I said and did things trying to cover what you said were my flaws. Trying to show people I wasn’t broken in half, but tall.

You made me hate my own mind’s thoughts, and stress turned to illness that was never even there. You made me hold my breath in a room full of air. I ignored help, I was paranoid of others, accepting your foolish pride, locking up the scorching pain burning inside.

 Now I'm going to embrace myself and I won’t try to hide it.

And, just to let you know this letter is one-sided.

I let you block me and beat me with failure.

You took my life before.

Now I’m taking what comes after.

P.S: Thank you, you taught me and now I see with the clearest of eyes:

Lesson # 8: Lessons 1 though 7 are  all lies.

With the deepest disregards,

Your Ex-best prisoner/"frienemy"