Ok...so where were we?
Well, my mom didn't want to have much to do with me anymore. I can't say I blamed her. For over two years we had made each others lives miserable. We couldn't stand being around each other. I blamed her for everything that was wrong in my life. I welcomed change.
Although I hadn't seen my dad much as a kid, he wasn't exactly a stranger to me. I kept in contact with him from time to time and occasionally my mom would let me come down for a few days. Since I remembered him more from before my parents divorce, I fought more to see him. My brother was only one or two years old, and hardly remembered seeing him. That was another cause of family friction for me.
When I moved in with my dad, I was torn. I was so happy to be away from my mother, but my heart broke because I would no longer see my Pastor and his wonderful family. My father wasn't a Christian and even if he was, he would never take me to a church my mom attended. So I hid my pain deep inside my heart and told myself that time would heal my wounds. And I started living a different life. I reunited with a few of my friends from my childhood days. They weren't Christians, but they were simple and good and never encouraged me to do wrong. I never felt pressure around them. Life was good. I started high school. And although I wasn't exactly popular, the kids at my new school were generally nice and welcoming. I loved it. I will forever love my high school because of the difference it made in my life. I thought all kids were into drugs and alcohol and partying, and although this went on at my school I'm sure, it was much more frowned upon than anywhere else I had been. I loved it for that reason.
I didn't think about my mom much, but I often thought about church and my Pastor's family. I missed that part of my life. Sure things were alright living with my dad, but I was still empty. I still had a piece missing from my heart.
So over time, naturally friction started between my father and I. Only a little here and there..but enough to scare me. Enough to make me think the process of fighting and yelling was going to start all over again. I didn't want to be caught in the midst of more hatred and have no where to run, so one emotional evening, I called my mom. I cried and cried and cried and told her how sorry I was for everything I had ever done. How sorry I was for being such an awful daughter. I wanted to be friends. I wanted to have a good relationship. We talked for hours and wept together and when we hung up, I was happier than I had been in a long time. I had my mom back in my life. And she would love me and we would be happy. We had learned a lot from being apart and now we could begin to work on our relationship together.
Life was alright for a while after that. My mom would pick me up on Sundays to go to church. I LOVED being back in church. Walking through those doors was like a breath of fresh air. I started talking to my Pastors family again. I slowly started coming over again to babysit their kids (there were now three). Everything was kind of falling into place. I was happy. I wanted to please God. But I still hadn't given my whole heart to Him. I still thought I could make things work on my own. I still relied on my own strength. I denied the tugging in my heart. And because I did so, my life began slowly unraveling before my eyes.
Since I was hanging out with my mom more and more, I started hanging out with my old friends. I felt so accepted and cool among my friends at my fathers, but still felt so inadequate around my friends at my mothers. I still wanted desperately to impress them. So I started falling into my old habit of doing whatever they told me. And I started hanging around boys. Boys who had no interest in me as a person. And they would come around to see my other, prettier friends and naturally one of the cast off boys would pay attention to me. And I would fall all over them. I thought I they liked me because they thought I was special, when really they only wanted me because I was there. And because I was foolish.
There was a pair of boys that one of my friends met through a social site called Myspace. They wanted to come meet her, but she kept putting them off. One night, they told me they wanted to come visit me. And they would drive all the way down to my dads to see me. I thought that was the most awesome thing! They must be really cool if they are going to make the drive all the way to my fathers just to visit me! I got all dressed up and came out to meet them in their car. I'll call them B and R. I asked a friend that lived on my block to come meet them with me. I sent her off with B and I stayed and hung out with R. He started kissing me in the car. It wasn't my first kiss, but it was my most intense. I thought he really liked me. He must like me a lot if he was kissing me this way. It was the start of the most painful series of events I have ever lived through.
Naturally I wanted to hang out with B and R as much as possible. I invited one friend at a time to come hang out with us. I thought I was the coolest person in the world. I was so proud of myself. I thought R really liked me. But you know what is really funny? I stopped wanting him. Oh, I still wanted him to like me. But I wanted B more. Because he was the one I perceived as the alpha male. He was the cooler one. He was the one everyone else wanted. So even though I would still hang on R and give him kisses, deep down I was doing it to get B to notice me. And he must have. Because one weekend while I was staying at my moms he came to visit me. He didn't have a car at the time so he took two buses and came to my house just to see me! I felt so special! And I was basically home alone, because my mom and stepfather took my brother out of town for the day and left my grandfather in charge. He had fallen asleep on the couch within the first hour of coming to the house. So I snuck B up to my room. We talked for a while, we played on the computer. We were waiting for my friend to get ready so the three of us could go do something.
And we waited, alone, in my room. For a while.
And naturally, him having no value of me as a young girl and me wanting so badly to be loved and accepted, we started kissing. And one thing led to another. And I ended up giving myself to him. Completely. I was terrified and guilty the whole time, but wanted nothing more than for B to love me and think I was cool. So I did whatever he asked. And it lasted all of 5 minutes. And it was the most worthless thing I have ever done. And I hated myself. But I had done it. And there was no taking it back. I was 15.
And when it was all over, he called R and left. And I didn't see either one of them again. We talked for a little bit after that, but they kept avoiding me and eventually I realized they didn't want to see me anymore. So I left them alone. And my heart broke.
And after that I felt so worthless, so undesirable, so disgusting, that I just let my life get out of control. I started fighting with my dad more and more. I stopped caring what my Pastor said in church. I started hanging out with a group of boys on my street. One night I stole alcohol from my fathers stash in the basement and got me and a friend of mine drunk. And I let those boys take advantage of us. They didn't have sex with us, but they did touch us. And I was sober enough to know they were doing it and I didn't try and stop them. Because I didn't really care. This is what I thought life had to offer me, so I let life have its way.
And once again I blamed anyone and everyone for how much I hated my life. Most of it went to my father. We fought and fought so much that I called my mom and told her to come pick me up and take me back to live with her. And she did. She took me back to my house with all my old friends and I thought that I had left all my hatred and heartache behind with my father.
But I hated my new school and I hated the way my old friends seemed to ignore me because I didn't really have a desire to be like them anymore. I didn't have a desire to do anything. I just went to school and hated life and came home and hated life some more. I was miserable.
I just kind of floated through life for a while. I still went to church and hung out with my Pastors family. I still loved them and wished they were mine. I still had a lot of pain in my heart. But I managed. But as luck would have it (so to speak) my mom ended up separating from my stepfather for a while and moved back down to my fathers area. I was so excited. I would be able to go to my old school with my old friends again. And I would be happy. I thought that is what would make me happy. Living with my mom and being able to go to my old high school was the perfect combination. I could still go to church and still see my Pastors family. That was all I would need.
And when we moved, my mom asked a few members of the church if they would come help us. And that is when I really started noticing Richie...
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