Letters To Someone I Knew

When I first met him, I had absolutely no idea how big of a role he’d inevitably play in my life. He was innocent, in my eyes, at least. A college boy, who enjoyed college girls’ company. So, what was the harm in calling us over?

I walked to his side of the car, he was in the passenger's seat. His face was so bright and happy. He was a little sweaty, but that was expected because he had just come from football practice. And I knew because of his jersey and the fact that I was waiting for practice to get out to look at college boys. (Don’t judge me!) He had the biggest smile on his face when he called Lee Lee and me over and asked for our Social media. As we typed in our usernames, I beat him to asking if he wanted to hang out.

Lee Lee and I hung out with him and his friend, who was in the car with him at the time, that same night. We had a good time as we played games and listened to music. Days later, he and I began talking more consistently. We hit it off and I began to like him, like, really like him, a lot more than I should have and so soon. We began hanging out more and more, to the point where it was on a consecutive basis. This was the beginning of a very bitter-sweet story.

❈❈❈❈❈

J.R.,

I’ve forgotten about you. I don’t think about you. Not until I get a burning sensation between my legs; then I hate you. I want to wish that I never met you on those days. I want to call you up and cuss you out for doing this to me. Then, I remember that you were not fully to blame, that, yes, I played a role in this too. And that’s another demon I have to battle, but this is about you. My role in it aside, I can’t stand the thought of you.

I often find myself wondering if all of this pain could have been avoided had I told you sooner that I wanted to end things. My entire life changed as a result of your stupid actions and my failure to confess my true feelings. Everything could have been different had I told you that I wasn’t willing to stay if you didn’t want a commitment long term. But I stayed, nonetheless, changing the course of my life.

Do you even know how you hurt me? I was in love with you. I wanted to make a life with you. You understood me, perhaps like nobody else had at that point in my life. I was willing and wishing to spend forever with you. Little did I know at that time that you would always be in my life. Not physically, how I craved you at the time. But genetically, in a way I would have never wished on myself. I guess they were right when they said “Be Careful What You Wish For, Because You Just Might Get It.”

I have put this aside for almost two years because I didn’t want to think about you or what you did to me. I put my trust in you and you broke it. For a long time, I didn’t even know how to begin this letter. Until one day, I was sitting on my bed just talking to God. I was ranting to Him because He already knew my heart, my deepest desires, my deepest pains. And before I knew it, I was sitting there bursting into tears over something we both knew I had been avoiding. You.

I thought, if I could tell him and make him know, make him feel what he did to me, what would I say?

I’d say “I hate you.”

The craziest part of it all is that, though I harbor such hatred for you, I can’t help but look back and have some sort of feeling for you. For our relationship. It sounds toxic, but maybe that’s just the toxicity you left in my mouth. You let me rant about the stupidest things. You listened to me no matter how silly the topic. When I thought you were zoned out, just allowing me to talk, you’d joke with me about something I’d said. Your laugh when you were picking on me, and your smile in those moments still lingers in my mind when I think about how much I hate you.

Sometimes you’d come and get me, just to hang out. To play games, to watch t.v. shows and cuddle. You’d kiss me like you meant it. And we’d just enjoy our time together. You were sweet. Sometimes we’d just listen to music and dance and sing along. Or we’d cuddle up while you played the game. Other times, we would pig out on some pizza, and then go to bed.

I feel so silly for defending you to people who know how slimy you were. To people who tried to tell me that you weren’t the one for me, and that I would inevitably get hurt. I told them there was just no way, that it wasn’t possible. I told them that you’re actually a really sweet guy. That I know that you care for me, possibly even love me. That the only reason you act out is because you don’t know how to show your emotions correctly. That you were just scared of being vulnerable and scared that we’d connect like you’ve never connected with anyone before, scared that you’d eventually be drawn back to your hometown.

But I wasn’t dumb. I had feelings, intuitive thoughts that told me to leave you alone. That told me I deserved so much better. They told me I didn’t have to sit there and let you listen to me go on and on about the real love I had for you, while you were still failing to fully commit yourself to me.

Right when I decided I deserved better than what we had, after many nights crying as I listened to Do Better by Lil Donald, and knowing that I had to move on I set it out straight. I told you, I couldn’t do it anymore. I told you that I wouldn’t. That I didn’t want to. That I’d heard rumors and that I didn’t think I could trust you. That we were too different and wanted completely different things. And it worked. Until I got that damned call. Oh, how I wish I would have had the sense to tell you the moment that I began feeling that way.

I have compassion for you because I know you didn’t ask for this either. This also happened to you. But it could have been avoided, if you would have been honest with me about your partners. If you weren’t so sex crazed that you had to sleep with me too, when you had so many other partners. It could have been avoided had I not been so scared of being lonely. Had I had more confidence in what I wanted and confidence to say what needed to be said.

I don’t think you realize what you did to my confidence. To my security. It has been so hard trying to fight the thought that no one would ever or could ever love me again. How can I harbor a secret like this? How do I tell my future husband that if he really wants me, he has to put his health on the line? How could I ever love myself again?

❈❈❈❈❈

The phone rang over and over again. Mainly because I had already seen the name on the caller ID. It read, “Community Health Center.”

Just seeing the name, I immediately knew my results were in. The things that ran through my mind at that moment. The way my heart couldn’t stop racing. I was already crying and I hadn’t even answered the phone. I let it ring one more time to give myself a moment to wipe away the tears.

Now, I could have sat there and lied to myself saying that every little thing was gonna be just fine. That I was perfectly fine. But I knew. My intuition told me first, before I saw the doctor. Now, with his medical expertise, he told me exactly what he thought was wrong. His medical expertise was as clear as the test results themselves.

I stayed calm when he told me, as if it wasn’t what I knew deep down. I never let my mind really accept it until I knew for sure. No 'but what if's, just, 'wait till the results'. And I did.

I finally press Answer. 

“Hello, J.C.? This is Dr. Lynn from the Community Health Center and it’s my understanding you had some blood drawn last week?”

Mind you, they always tell you when taking your blood with these kinds of things that if you don’t hear back, you’re in the clear. If you do, then you’ve got something to worry about. So, I knew the moment I saw the caller ID that I had a problem.

After I answered, the moment she began to speak, it’s as if my entire being drifted away into a dream.

In the dream, I was smiling and dancing. Spinning to the music, to be exact. So full of life, I was enjoying the bliss of the moment as I breathed in the enormity of my own presence and existence. Light and life surrounded me. Encapsulated by my own self-love. And in one moment, the vision of this free-spirited girl transformed into rugged memories of feeling like nothing. Of feeling nonexistent. Lifeless. Broken, bruised and torn from the consistent anxiety of wondering if I had a purpose, if anyone had, or could ever love me. Feeling as though, nothing will ever change this feeling. Like no one would care. As if all hope of ever finding something meaningful in life had suddenly vanished as the words rolled off of my doctor's lips. 

“Now, we ran tests on the samples you gave us, and it’s my job to inform you that the results did come back as positive for the Herpes Simplex Virus.”

❈❈❈❈❈

J.R.,

I had honestly cried often wondering if the man I was falling in love with was with other women. If somehow, in all the time I was with you, I was just another one of them. Yet, I chose to stay. To love a man who was more than likely using me for pleasure. A man who never respected me. How could you?

I denied it over and over until I believed you might actually love me too. So when I called you to tell you the news, I shattered at the words you spoke in response. I was already broken on the other end and then, you destroyed me yet again.

“I went to the doctors because I started noticing something down there and they called me today and told me I have HSV-2,” I started. “You’re the only person I’ve been with so you should probably get checked.”

“I wouldn’t doubt you got it from me,” you said.

You could probably find a piece of me in the spot where I placed that call. 

Everyday I cried. The stigma of everything I had heard about herpes crowded my mind. The thought that “no one would ever be able to love me like this” was on repeat.  After you got your results back, you tried to convince me that now it was only right that we be together. That way, we don’t have to tell anybody new, because it could just be us since we already had it. I questioned if you were lying. Did you know about this and not tell me? Did you intentionally gamble with my health for your own pleasure? How were you so reckless? And why did you have to do this to me?

Now at this point it was a sure thing that you had cheated. I don’t know what I was more upset about. The fact that you cheated, the fact that you gave me an incurable disease, or the fact that I didn’t listen to anyone, including myself, about who you really were. I felt disgusted at myself. At you. I hated myself because of you. Because of what had happened.

I hate you. I don’t but really, I could hate you for this. I could be one of those women who burns your clothes or steals all your left shoes, “bust the windows outtcha car,” slash-your-tires-types. But every chance I got to destroy you, I didn’t. I wanted to hurt you so bad. Like how you hurt me again and again. You didn’t even live in my town anymore and you were still causing damage in my life. But I wouldn’t let you break me because you’re just not worth it.

After years of considering how different my life could have been had I left you sooner, had I just told you the truth. Years of contemplating how I would still be confident and courageous and full of self-love and worth had I just told you that I wouldn’t stand for the bare minimum any longer. After years of hating myself because I didn’t listen to that voice in my head, God spoke to me.

He talked to me, almost as if to reconcile on your behalf. Deep down, I just wanted Him to leave me alone so that I could hate you for your role in my pain. But He told me to forgive you. I didn’t, not right away. But I do. You don’t deserve it. Not in my opinion. But I had to lay the pain and the shame of what happened at His feet and let Him heal me from that. And in doing that, I had to forgive you like He’s forgiven me.

I had to think about the purpose. ‘Why, God, would you let this happen to me? What did I, of all people, do to deserve this? Don’t you want me to be happy?’

Then I realized. The pain and the shame I was feeling wasn’t to break me. It was to bring me closer to Him. And it did. Because I knew that He was the only one who was trustworthy, who would never leave me, or disappoint me.

So yes, I still despise the role you played in the rest of my life. I still wonder what things would have been like had I spoken up sooner. But if it wasn’t for this specific outcome, I wouldn’t have begun to lean on My God again. To renew myself in Him. So, you became a part of a testimony that I hope will have the ability to change someone’s life someday.

With Forgiveness,

J.C.

❈❈❈❈❈

Years Later, I find myself living a much more fulfilled life. Day to day I often forget that pain I harbored for so long. I've reconciled with J.R., I've forgiven him for the pain he caused me. I've forgiven myself for putting myself in such a life changing situation. But when I look back, all I see is a story of how a girl found her way back to God.