This Is Just Me Letting Go

"But I love him"
“So love him.”
 “But I miss him.” “So miss him. Send him some love and light every time you think about him, then drop it."
~~~~

Being with you was comfortable. I was just discovering my type after vowing I was done with cocky, insecure heartbreakers. You were perfect. The right amount of bashful shy, amazingly funny and breathtakingly beautiful. I was blind to it first bit I got there.

Ii needed someone human, a guy who wouldn't chase me and pull back when he reels. I knew you'd never leave me, only because you'd never bait me in the first place.

But I never imagined that being a problem. Was I to know you'd be the first guy I'd ever make out with more than 15 minutes at a stretch in peace? No rush no ripping. Was I to know I'd miss your smooth voice and stupid jokes nicknaming everything? Your sheer innocence and man-child (yes I'm still calling it that) attitude?

But this is me finally accepting feeling, and feeling deeply I am. All the years of shadowing and closing off and cowering and hurting. I take it all in. Read me I'm your favourite book. I'm not afraid of loving, I have too much to give. Too many faces to see smiling, too many hugs to give out.

This is me taking back myself because I need emotion, I need love, and I need someone who is not afraid of it, because I am never going to be anymore. This is me letting you go with a smile and sending you love each time I think of you.

This is me accepting.

What Am I Doing With You?

Do you remember that time when we were sitting and laughing in the taxi while travelling the whole city trying to find that one book you wanted? Of course you do, you remember everything I say.

It wasn't even particularly funny, being with you made everything seem happier.
We started laughing together but I was the one to stop first. I was breathless.
I looked into your face, eyes crinkled, chest moving with laughter and your lips forming a perfect curve of a smile.

I stared into your eyes. You looked straight out of a picture years out of school in some old closet, hitting you with nostalgia. 

Time froze. My heart was beating so fast. I was so nervous.
Then you squished in my cheeks with your hand, I felt my heart was a bird crashing against its cages.

What am I doing with you?

Let me sleep without dreaming of your kisses, let me breathe without inhaling your memories. Let me survive an hour without talking to you.

You are a basic need to my survival. I can never tell you I love you enough in a day.

What do you want from me?

You make me dream about all the places we'd go, all the things we'd do. You tell me I'm your number one. You tell me you love me. You are the last person I talk to and the one I wake up to. You don't even do anything without telling me first. You've seen every hill and valley of my life.

Then you go and tell me about the girls you like. You talk about her and her and her. 

Why are you doing this to me?

Nude Pictures Vol I

I opened up my e-Mail to see a message by some random guy telling me how he admired my "hot figure so sexy". Not thinking much of it I ignored it and carried about my daily routines which consist of redditing and watching old French films.
Next day, I got another similarly worded e-Mail by that guy. Somewhat creeped, I decided to ignore it yet again.

Then, I got a message by that guy on Facebook. 
"Hi I like you I wanna make friendship. 
I saw some sexy pics of you in the bathroom do you wanna see?"
This was what he sent me, albeit with more spelling mistakes and horrid grammar.

I was pretty shook up but I still chalked him up to various other Facebook creeps a moderately average looking girl faces in her life. (pls note modesty)

Later that night he sent me some pictures but I didn't open them because I wanted to ignore him so he would go away. The next morning he sent me another message.

Today, I opened these messages just to get rid of the annoying notification. I saw 4 photos that hadn't loaded yet. I wasn't aware that he sent me pictures too.
They loaded.

And I saw.

Pictures of me. Naked. In sexually explicit poses.
Pictures I clicked as a 15 year old teenager at the height of  her sexual discovery.
Pictures I would never want even my boyfriend to possess.
Pictures of an unconsenting minor.

My heart was beating fast. All blood rushing, time was frozen.
I kept staring at my breasts, my hands, my face, my body.

I'd only read about this happening to other people. All looping around the same thread of words around their minds like beads of a holy rosary.
"Why me?"

How did he get those pictures? How did he find my identity?
How dare he?

Immediately, I started thinking about the girl in school whom everyone stopped talking to because her nudes leaked.
I thought about The Fappening. I thought about the girls reported in news who end up killing themselves or running away because their pictures got distributed.

Is this what I'm going to be?