You Made Me Love Me

Every day for 2 years, I would board the school bus and sit by myself, blasting music in my headphones in order to drown out the cacophony of “Vagina! Slut! Whore! Bitch! Retard! Two-faced! Hoe!” Emotional breakdowns were a frequent occurrence. As the bullying quickly became routine, I had learned to anticipate this obnoxious behavior. Rather than responding to the insults, I turned my body away and faced my head in the opposite direction, glaring out the window. Over time, I became emotionally numb. This hellish nightmare became my reality. Every day, their lies were my truth. I began to loathe myself; I thought that I deserved to be branded with those words.  

One morning I was actively searching for a song that I had heard just a few days before; anxious to listen to it, I frantically typed any lyric fragments I recalled into the search bar. Thankfully, my broken phrases were correctly interpreted and soon I was redirected to “Try” by Colbie Callibat on Youtube. Satisfied I sunk back into the remains of the damaged cushion and enjoyed the song. At first, I was drawn to the familiar melody and hummed quietly. However, when I redirected my attention to the lyrics, I suddenly broke down into tears and started to sob silently. For so long, I kept my anguish to myself, but now my emotions flooded out and I felt a sense of relief. I was not yet aware at the time but I would soon encounter someone who would deliver me from this darkness and pain.

This deliverance came in the form of my science desk mate. At first, I assumed he was the typical class clown, the type to slack off and not take the class seriously.

However, as the year progressed, his positive attitude, charisma, and cheeky grin were welcomed by me, even anticipated. As I grew accustomed to his endearing presence, he found “my kind” intriguing in return. I would often find him leaning over to peek at the book I was reading, resulting in interesting conversations and a cultivated friendship. 

Soon enough, my feelings began to intensify. My initial reaction to this shift was fear of the intimacy we shared. My constant burden of worry and doubt at the time only grew when I found out that another girl, with beauty polarizing mine, fancied him, too. I often found them talking to each other in Russian with wide happy grins. I assumed that he was captivated by her. Not willing to risk rejection and heartbreak, I refused to feel anything towards him, distancing myself and seeking distraction. I ignored his penetrating stares and balled up fists when other guys talked to me. 

Then came the day he confessed. He pulled me in for a brief kiss in the classroom hall, surprising not only me but also my fellow classmates. We studied each other before being pulled away into class. 

His eyes couldn’t hide his feelings. They told me I love you. I watched you; I looked out for you. 

I saw your downward glare, your trembling chin under that mountain of hair; I saw your eyes begin to moisten when your opponent jabbed you with her harsh words, when she pummeled you into submission in a matter of minutes. However, rather than retreating to your friends defeated and wounded, I saw how you quickly rubbed your eyes against your sleeve, wiped your nose with a tissue, and turned to them with a shaky smile. Although you reassured your friends that you were fine, you dragged yourself around lifelessly with those empty eyes, deep frowns, and slumped posture. You gradually avoided contact with everyone around you; though you gave off the impression that you did not care, I saw your increasing anxiety over intimacy. I saw how you looked at me when I was talking to one of my female companions and I knew that you would automatically come to conclusions that we were something more. I don’t want you to be mistaken; she’s not who I am in love with. She is just a friend. Stop pushing me away. I don’t care about my reputation; I don’t care if I’m the next in line to be rejected. Their disapproval of our relationship is none of my concern and should not be yours either; their frequent ridicule and belittlement will not lessen my appreciation for you. I love you 

This relationship helped me develop self-love. When he fell in love with me, he constantly reminded me of my own beauty that I had long rejected. He ignored others’ judgments of me and told me to do the same. He told me to erase those labels off my skin for they did not define me; he told me to replace those offensive names with compliments that he thought I deserved to hear. My self-loathing vocabulary gradually disappeared and soon I refused to rot. The hateful words branded on my skin began to heal; the deep gashes in my heart began to stitch themselves together. Rather than depending on external approval, I learned to develop a positive self-perception. I began to remind myself of the good qualities that I possess and to recount the compliments that I received. I’ve learned to stop fearing others’ judgment and cultivate self-compassion. I’ve learned to free myself from my own hatred. I also admired certain core values of his: trust, love, and forgiveness, and decided to adopt them as part of my own. As mimicked gestures ingrained into habits, I saw my relationships gradually strengthen. Not only was I able to sustain intimacy long term, but I was also able to enrich my life with new connections. I was able to develop new meaningful relationships.

Although high school distanced us, we encountered each other once more during the summer of junior year. My family and I were driving home after grocery shopping. I sat in the front passenger seat to gaze at the passing scenery, to feel the wind ruffling through my hair. As the car turned right, my eyes met another pair. The brief contact felt so familiar somehow, so I decided to look back. There, a boy with those familiar black spectacles stood in the middle of the road with his mouth slightly open. He waved at me with a wide smile, and as we drove away, I glanced back for a final time and I could’ve sworn he mouthed I love you. 

 A few years have passed since then, and I still hold this experience dear to my heart. I’m fortunate to have this experience as my first romantic relationship. He showed me what love is supposed to be and its preciousness.