To My First Love

Tavo, my first love, the first person I went crazy for, literally. Tavo, we met through a friend, sliding up on my story telling me I’m a dime and he wants to f**k. It’s i********:. My friend from school knew him for years, what was I in for? I wish I had known. We started talking, we’re getting deeper I guess. I look at his stories, his messages, I see his life. Drugs, money and danger. He tells me about some of it, tells me his ideas, and that he likes candles. It’s been a month since I watched a soccer game on December 15th with my brother, and I decided, y’know what f**k it, I’m gonna call him. So I do. It’s not the first time he’s called me before after not talking for days. I called him, we started talking and one of us asked if I could come over to his house, my brother's home, right? So I figured it out with my mom and my brother drove me to the apartment next to my school. After a second, a while you could say, I saw him, short, Hispanic, got a mustache and scars on his face, tattoos on his arms I wouldn’t see till he’d taken off his weed-smelling designer hoodie. He hugs me, and so we go to his friend’s place. Now we're smoking, taking bars, yet I just feel far, disconnected, but that’s okay. He leans in, uses my sword necklace to pack the blunt, learned that he was expecting a kiss, but I didn’t. We smoke, talk a little more and his friend leaves the room and we get to it. I start going down on him and around a minute, I look up and here he is recording it. A phone in my face while I’m sucking his d**k. Oh well I guess, there’s not much to do now. It’s done. We f**k. He asked me, “Do you wanna sell for me?” and “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”. Whatever I was on, I said yes. Yet here I am, because first love always ends in heartbreak; but if it was so simple, why would I be writing about it? Because it helps me process how I feel and get over it. You get this or not, whatever, I simply don’t care, like you didn’t about me. You probably saw the text and said that’s too much to deal with and closed the doc. So I don’t care. I’m going to write what happened, and how I felt. We started dating, and it was fine at first. Yet, something bothered me from the beginning. Why do we only f**k, why are we never sober, why dont we really actually talk? People are different, it takes time too, so I’ll give it time. I text him every so often throughout the day. I smile when I see his messages, I start thinking about him more, yet something is so off, isn’t it? Before we dated, he told me white chicks are crazy, not his type, essentially. So why ask me to be with him? I honestly wish I had stayed in one of his many side hoes. He answered fast when we weren’t together. We talked for hours, he was honest, he was troubled, but so am I. I don’t care, it doesn’t define who you are. He turned to something else when we dated, we got into fights, over text, over the dumbest things. I wanted to see him. He couldn’t or I couldn’t find a way to get to him. We fought. We fought because I wanted to see him and spend time with him, we fought because he didn’t realize I also had feelings, we fought because I wanted him to care, we fought because he didn't, we fought because he broke promises on promises, we fought because he only thought about himself. Yet here I was, I was somehow worse mentally than I’ve ever been, not eating, not sleeping, skipping class, always high, never doing s**t. I only thought about how I could make myself better, how could I make him care? It’s because I weighed too much, right? I took care of that. I didn’t eat, didn’t drink, that added weight. I weighed and monitored every hundred grams. If I went up it I was a failure. I was so hungry. Sometimes my stomach would eat itself, it hurt, I was weak, couldn’t heal wounds, I was covered in bruises. If I was hungry and ate, I’d throw it back up. If I didn’t want to do that, I’d chew food for the taste and spit it out. Was it because I wasn’t attractive enough? So I wore makeup, waist trainers, took care of myself so I’d be as pretty as I could without food. Or was it because I wasn’t there enough for him? Yet I was there whenever he texted or called, though he’d leave me on delivered for hours. It didn’t matter, I was gonna prove I was different, that I was special, I was there no matter what. I’d go to his friend's house, we’d chill for an hour or two, we smoke and f**k, then he kicks me out. He doesn’t like it when I try to help. He’s angry, he pushes me away. Okay, I understand, he’s not okay, he is not mentally right. Neither am I. The bipolar, depression, suicidalness, bdp, trust issues. Ahhh I’ve got my own stir of issues too. The 5 pills I take a day tell a story. So he’s not okay and neither am I, so I’ll sacrifice myself. I'll be okay for him, so he can lean on me, ask for help. Yet he never did. I go on vacation and it goes horribly. All I want is to see him and he promises me the day I’m back I’ll see him. I don’t. We fight instead because I can’t get a ride to a hotel at night from my family. It’s my fault because I was 15, I guess. So it didn’t happen, but the next day it did. It was good, we didn’t talk, we f****d, yea that’s about it. He pushed away when I tried talking to him or when I showed affection, so I went home. I’d see the same hotel door a few months later. It’s a few days into the month, January, he texts me saying he’ll pick me up. I’m watching Grey’s Anatomy on the TV at 12 AM. So he comes, we go over to some random apartment where his friend was. Did I mention he was off two bars and swerving while driving? Guns, money, drugs. I see them in the room as soon as I enter the apartment, yet I really don’t care. His friend leaves, he turns off the lights and we get on the mattress. We’re f*****g and he tells me he loves me. Around a month in. I say it back, after all, I can’t stop thinking about him and I care about him, isn’t that love? We go to the car to smoke, f**k some more and he tells me “I’ll take care of you if you get pregnant”. I’ll keep kissing him. How many times has he came in me? It’s a wonder I didn’t get pregnant even with my starvation and his level of drug use. It’s time to go, right? We had s*x, so now it’s time I left. I’ve served my purpose, so now it’s time to go. I walked home at 2 AM, all for him to tell me the next day. He didn’t remember anything. Oh. Okay. So he didn’t mean it, it was just the drugs. Ha. Yet, I just couldn’t stop talking to him, couldn’t stop wanting his approval, attention, something to tell me I was worth something in his head. I broke up with him, around a week later, waiting for calls, promises never being kept, lies all the time, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wrote it with my best friend and I had her there so I would actually do it. Breaking down every night because he couldn’t keep a promise for his life or because he’d actively ignored me and knew I knew it wasn't going to work. My love didn't do anything for him, didn’t make him happy, didn’t want to see or talk to me if he wasn’t off bars. My love, my care, my affection, didn’t mean anything because he didn’t care about me. Yet, haha, the next day, I texted him my address. Whether it was because I couldn’t stand being alone or because he told me “Don’t worry, this happens every time, all girls are the same”, and I’m different; maybe I couldn’t stand that, or I was just lonely and in need of affection even if it was close to nothing. Something is better than nothing, right? He came, said to act as if nothing was happened, yet however much I wanted to talk about it, it was not like it was going to change. We f**k, surprise! On my bed, he brings his friend in, meets my cat, gets mad because fur got on his designer attire. We f**k some more while his friend’s in my bedroom. Guess what, he’s gotta leave now, go make a drop, so after a minute, we all leave together. On a loop, he plays “Trust Issues” by Fredo Bang, go listen to it, or maybe I was just reading too much into it. They drop me off, and they are on their way. We’re back together, yet this time, it gets so much worse. He never answers, we’re never calling and the only way I can see him is to do it myself. Guess what, I stole cars to go see him. I stole my mom’s car and my brother’s, because I wanted to see him. I was 15, with no insurance and only a permit. I haven’t mentioned how this affected my relationship and trust with my parents, have I? Everytime I came home smelling like weed, it broke it a little, every time I took a car, everytime I skipped a class, the relationship broke just a little more than it already was, and in the end we didn’t really talk anymore. I was back to being 13-14, not talking to my parents and locking myself in my room, bottling my feelings and keeping all my problems to myself because I didn’t want to burden anyone else, not that I really had anyone else. No matter how many times I came to see him in those cars, it never really mattered, it was the same pattern. Go somewhere and f**k then he wants to go home. I remember him one time talking about his licks with his homeboys, and in the end he left, for his house. I said, “I love your loyalty to them”, because I wanted some. I baked him cookies for him multiple times. He said he liked them. That made me happy. Maybe I wasn’t just a f**k toy to him after all! Maybe I wasn’t being used! Nah, I told him I loved him and I was here for him so many times. I think I engraved it into my soul. Yet all he wanted from me was to f**k; he told me he loved me, and I tried believing him. I tried thinking that we were in love. So in February, he broke up with me and I couldn’t find out why, so I asked him and I continued asking over and over till I pushed too far. I keep trying to find out why. What did I do wrong? Where did I go wrong? It wasn’t me, apparently. It doesn’t matter, in my brain, everything bad that happens is because I did something wrong. That’s how I was raised. At the same time, I got into an argument with my best friend because I couldn't do anything right, and I was an asshole at the time and only thought about my relationship with him. I didn’t have anybody, no boyfriend, friend, or family and I’m already worthless, so why go on? I took a handful of pills, smoked my bong, and woke up in a hospital. Overdose, non-accidental, got me into the psychiatric ward. Spend a week there and I’m out. Yet, I’m still trying to talk to him. I will try over and over again till May. I buy him off, he gets a hotel we f**k, I get the cops called to my house for “running away” and yea. Next day, I got a video sent to me with the caption “I don’t remember this, u must’ve r***d me” with laughing emojis, because I told him details about how I trauma-blocked my s****l abuse. A few weeks later, I had no more friends really. I’m in trouble at school with the law, my parents and my grandparents just left, nothing is better, it’s worse. I still have a bottle from selling at school, so I’m going to take it. I wanted to be in a hotel when I did it, so no one could save me, but I couldn’t get one. Back in the hospital, a non-accidental overdose got me back to the psych ward. I left 5 days later, even though I punched a girl. I’m out, I want to go back. I can’t. So yeah. On July 4th, he made me pay $70 dollars to see him and I had to steal my brother's car. I got to the autozone he told me to go to. I see him come out, he wants to drive. I say nah, he demands and I give in. He tells me to suck his d**k in the back first, so I do. He tells me to suck his d**k while he’s driving, so I do. Yet, he keeps talking about how he’s got trust issues, can’t trust no one, everyone’s the same, he doesn’t f**k with hoes; yet here I was, “You’d tell me where you were, or when you’d break down on the side of the road”. There’s something else, this girl, Valeria. He talks about how she broke up with him, how he can’t forget about her, how she’s “pure”, so I ask the right questions. “When did y’all break up?” “Nah don’t worry about it.”, he knows this place apparently, then drives past his old house and hers, talking some s**t about how they used to be neighbors yet he could never see her. We get to it, he’s got a fat blunt, but this is my brother’s car and he has an internship at a government facility. So I told him “Not in the car”. I don’t think a single word I said mattered because he lit it anyway, saying he was a “gangster” and didn’t care. So we f**k, and guess what! He wanted to go home. So we start driving, he gets a message about a drop, so he tells me we finna go do it and all I could think is “bruh”. We’re back to the autozone, he picks up his s**t and strap and we get on the way. We’re driving and he starts telling me “I’m gonna walk to his crib.” I say cool, then he says it's too hot. I say alright. He tells me to hide. In my own f*****g brother's car. Because it’s his “cousin” and then starts complaining “I hope he doesn’t ask questions”, as if I care. I am not hiding in my brother's car because he’s too much of a p***y to explain that I’m the doormat he likes to use. We find his supposed cousin and he ain’t got enough, 40 instead of 60, so Tavo, in his greatness, gets mad and starts scooping weed to give to him. As if that wasn’t enough, his constant complaining of “these guys playing with me” blah blah f*****g bullshit, he rolls down the window, and shoots a bullet in one of the apartments. I’m in the passenger seat just shocked about what the f**k just happened. We skirt off, then he brings her up again. And I ask. Again. “When did y’all break up” after many “Nah don’t worry about it”, he tells me, “I was never single before and when we were dating”. I just stood there in shock. “What?”. “I told you this”, no, he hadn’t. I punched him, started crying. Thoughts are racing through my head, what, what, what. He had a girlfriend the entire time we were together. He asked me to be his girlfriend, he told me he loved me, he told me he’d take care of me if I got pregnant. Now he’s telling me, he had a girlfriend the entire time. Who’s memory am I gonna trust? Mine? Or someone who doesn’t remember meeting my cat, or if I sucked him off on top of a playground or the person who tells me they don’t remember anything from the night before? Mine. So we drove back. Crying through my tears, I said “I just want to see you happy, I just want you to trust someone” and he tells me “I cry every night like that because she left me”. So. How do I express how much this relationship has affected my life? How do I express how used and betrayed I felt? How do I express that I can’t trust anyone anymore? How can I express that I broke myself for him? How do I express that I’m not okay? He left. All I wanted was for him to care about me, but you can’t force that on someone. The right people, the people who love you, care about you, don’t do what he did. They don’t use them for s*x and money, they don’t use someone because they’re heartbroken, they don’t use them because they're not well themselves. So no matter how much I opened up to him, told him my issues, I’d get the same response, “Chill, stop tripping.”. No matter how much I wanted him to like me or love me, I doubt he ever did. No matter how much I tried, it did not matter. You shouldn’t keep someone in your life that treats you the way he did to me. It’s a waste of your time, energy, money, and happiness. Be with the people who love you, be with those who give you their time and care. Some people aren’t worth it, some people will never let you in, some people will lie to your face all the time with no remorse, some people will use you, some people will never care about you and some people will never be able to accept they need help. Maybe, maybe I am the crazy one, blowing everything out of proportion and telling the view of the story I remember. Who really knows? I’m better, I’m clear, I’m in control now. I’m okay but I won’t be the same, ever again.