Maybe It Was All My Fault After All


After two months of slamming doors, heated fights, senseless arguments and sleepless nights, I needed an escape. I wanted to go somewhere and never come back. Ever. Switch off my phone and throw it off the cliff. We both know I couldn’t have done it. I couldn’t do it. Am I a stronger person than that? I don’t know. Afraid, yes. To death.

I, just came in touch with this guy, after some five years or so. We knew each other from high school. He was a senior. He said he liked me. We were pretty close back then. Now, we were back to being strangers. He asked me out. I said yes. I asked him if he’d like to go for drinks. He said yes. It was done. I couldn’t wait to brainwash myself.

We went out, had breakfast and ran up to the bar. I hadn’t slept the night before. I wanted to get done with it and go back to my bed. Did I seem too desperate? We ordered our drinks. Rum, at first. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. People tell me it’s strong. I didn’t feel it. At all. Maybe because it was just a peg. I needed something more. If I was going to waste money, why not waste it right? This time, whisky – my long lost love. Four pegs, two for him and two for me. It started to hit me, but it wasn’t enough. We were talking, his weird experiences with drunk girls, how they’d be all around him. I laughed it off. Not for one second did it cross my mind – not before planning to meet, not before we went to the bar, and not even now when he narrated his drunken diaries.

Another round of whisky, four more pegs – three for me and one for him. I was finally all out, but in my senses. I remember everything that happened, every word that I said and every action that he did. He held my hand and asked me to kiss him.

What? What is he talking about? Is he out of his mind? Did he plan it all along? What did I do wrong? Did I say something inappropriate to him? This is the worst day of my life!

My head was too heavy to think straight, but I denied. No matter how much he tried, I said no every time. I used to wave my clean chit like a flag, always high. Now, it’s gone. He forced himself upon me and kissed me. Twice. I should’ve pushed him away, punched him right in the face and left right away without paying the bill. I couldn’t. How could I? I was too drunk to. Of course it was my fault.

I didn’t stop him when he tried to reach down to my breasts and grab them. On the staircase. Everything around me was spinning. I was too numb to think or feel anything. No wonder, I called for it. I felt pathetic, I cried and I paid for whatever I did. Because it was my fault.

I didn’t listen to my boyfriend when he said, “Don’t go out with people I don’t know, let alone drinking.” It has to be my fault. It was my fault because for the first time in my life, it never occurred to me that something might happen. It was my fault because I trusted him too much, got carried away by the thought that I’ve known him. It was my fault because I didn’t see it coming.

Did my top reveal too much? Did my eyes spoke too much? Was I being over friendly? Did my body say something that it shouldn’t have? I guess it did, gave him the wrong hints. Why would it not be my fault then?

He was the nicest person ever, took care of me when I needed, took me out when I was locked alone inside my room and look at what I did. I ruined him, made him look like a horrible person, blamed him for whatever happened. It was my fucking fault. Why is that so hard to accept? I destroy everything that I touch. I feel sorry for him.

To make the world a better place, I must not leave this room. No contacts with the outer world. I shall remain here, or anywhere. Alone. In my own little world, let no one enter it. No more lives at stakes. The amount of venom in the form of guilt inside me is enough for a lifetime. No more mistakes. No more being at fault. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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