Chapter 10
Just as I felt I had won the world in a raffle the day he pulled me into that dingy janitor's closet, I felt, if at all possible, infinitely worse watching this world I held so dear to my heart crumble into minuscule pieces and blown into the wind. That was a little while ago now, and yet it still stings remembering how stupid I was to believe something as arduous as mine and Sam's relationship to actually hold up against…anything really.
In all truthfulness, I had been denying myself the verity of the facts that were dancing around in my face. Walking in on Santana wrangling Sam with her balloon lips may have been the single most defining moment in my adolescent life. I know I'm just a teenager and I'm supposed to mess up, but to lose myself in someone (I say with utter disgust) is just pathetic. I haven't read anywhere where being a teenager means I have to have so little self-esteem that I don't matter. As a matter of fact, it's the exact opposite of that. Everywhere I look the message that is preached to young people is to love yourself, value yourself, and here I was doing just the reverse.
It wasn't until I was vested, did I begin to realize that something wasn't right. That instead of being filled with the elated joy of being in love; I was feeling empty and constantly battling to maintain the little bit of contentment I had. Sadly, it was my entire fault. The pain and betrayal that I was experiencing, I take full responsibility for. I can't blame Sam for my lack of happiness. He's a teenager like me, putting my well-being in his hands was idiotic and lazy. I thought that by holding on that things would get better; eventually he would do right by me without me insisting it.
I took him back and freely signed over my dignity with each kiss, each touch, each secret glance. Based solely on wishing. It was definitely all my doing. What's worse was that I was well aware of my actions during the process, yet, that didn't lessen the agony of finding him voluntarily being devoured by Santana's nasty, scaly, faux lips. In a way, it hurt worse because my hopes that maybe this thing between me and Sam wouldn't explode in my face were dashed. That's what I get for hoping love conquers all. He told me he loved me, and I questioned it, but how could I ignore the yearning in my heart to have it be true. I fed myself false hopes to shelter my fragile heart from the reality that I was living.
Clearly, I needed some new perspective. More than that I needed a friend, but as soon as I accepted this nefarious affair with Sam I pushed out the friends I'd had. I was barely talking to Kurt (which I still haven't rectified), not that I wanted him to be privy to this sad imitation of a woman I have become. I don't think I could stomach the disappointment and judgment that I'm positive he would be dishing out by the boat loads. I love the guy, I do (so much it's unbelievable), but he has this thing where he gets all sanctimonious and that's not at all what I'm needing in my life right now. If the subject wasn't so sensitive, like, if I wasn't already ashamed of my actions, he would be the perfect person to go to. But it's not the case, though I wish it were. I miss how close we used to be. Now, our interaction is relegated to vague greetings as we pass each other in the hallway and absentminded farewells at the end of the school day.
I hate myself for isolating myself from the few who cared for me to make time for secret trysts with Sam, at his beck and call whenever it was convenient for him. I needed someone who would offer unsolicited advice without judgment. I needed someone who would be willing to understand what I was going through. Cognitively, I couldn't name a single person like that; however, my heart didn't have a problem finding that person when I need them most.