She was a breath of fresh air in a room full of smoke. Her hands were so soft, her smile so big. Her eyes were beautiful and chaotic at the same time. She made my time so easy. Something about her drew me in from the start.
Our first three months together were spent in jail, she was in the tank across from me so we stood in the windows and used jailhouse sign language to communicate. She passed out food trays as a trustee so we would sneak letters when she gave me mine.
The only time we were actually physically near each other was at rec but they rarely let us go to the rec yard . Maybe once a week, sometimes twice if we were lucky and even then it was usually only 30-60 min at the absolute most. They watched us together, everyone knew about us. We joked that we were celebrities in county but truthfully we really were.
She pulled me out of a really dark place. She listened to all my secrets and all my problems. She accepted all the scarred parts of me that no one else would.
She was a heroin addict. I was a meth addict.
Our love and bond was like no other. The day I was released from jail, I ran to her window and put my hand with hers. She was crying because she thought I would never talk to her again once I left. I wrote her everyday for the month leading up to her release. I was there bright and early to pick her up. No money, no plan. That’s how I lived my life, in the moment.
I wouldn’t consider myself a lesbian or even bisexual. I’m not sexually attracted to women at all. She was different. She brought comfort to my soul and healing to my life. I needed her.
I immediately took her to my friend’s house and we got high. I thought, only one of us is going to be able to do the drug we want and it’s going to be me. I may as well get her on what I’m on. So I did. She loved it.
From the very beginning, in the free world, she started acting really jealous and possessive. If we were walking down the street and passed a man she would lose it. She was convinced that I wanted to be with a man. I had already been down the road of paranoia with my ex so in understood that the drugs were messing with her head, I just reassured her that I loved her and only wanted her.
We fought constantly, physically fighting over everything. She started so many of the fights but as soon as we were within eye sight of anyone she immediately dropped to the ground and I looked like the aggressor. I always hated that, neither of us had any right to be hitting each other but come on.. don’t act innocent here. But it’s just what we did. It’s how we were. We would walk through town in the middle of the night fighting and chasing after each other like the stop lights were our own personal boxing ring.
We slept outside in the cold together, we slept in sheds together. We slept on a bench across from the courthouse in the middle of the day while people walked all around us paying us no mind. But we barely saw them, we only saw each other. We only existed to each other.
She left me for other women more times than I can count. I would go off and do my own thing for a couple of weeks and come back to her when she was ready for me. Without a second thought. One time as a way to have me thrown out of her house she and her aunt told everyone I slept with her uncle. Which.. if you saw the guy you’d laugh with me. Plus I never left our bedroom. We stayed in there and got high 24/7 sometimes only going out the window when we needed cigarettes. No real reason for that we were just high and didn’t want anyone to see us.
We lived so many places together. The last place was the brown motel. It’s since been bulldozed and what a relief that was. Such an ugly point in my life and the building is gone.
We started shooting up together. We spent all night googling how to do it, and how to be good at it. Luckily, I have shitty veins anyways. So it was very difficult for me to do it very often. But she didn’t have that problem. At the time I envied her so much for that.
I think I used her. And I think she used me. I think part of us loved each other or the idea of each other and we were a crutch to each other when we needed it. We fed off each others bad behaviors and addictions and we encouraged each other to continue to do bad.
The last day she ever left me was like any other day. We went to the video store, we got food. We came home and watched our tv and got high like we always do. She got a phone call that she had a warrant out for her arrest. To me that was no big deal, just wait til they find you: but for her, she jumped up and started preparing to go to jail.
I begged and pleaded with her not to go. How could she just leave me here, why did she want to go to jail? Why was jail better than me?
About an hour after she left me there her grandmother showed up to get her belongings. What?! Why?! What is happening why am I in the dark here?? If she didn’t want to be with me why didn’t she just say so?! But this was typical. She always did this, she always left or made me leave.
I used to wonder if she ever really wanted me or if I was just something to pass the time with.
I got better, and she didn’t. She did for a while. She did really good for a while. Until she met someone who drug her back in. And now I really don’t know how she’s doing. I sent her this story before posting it and her response was that despite them being on drugs she is the happiest she has ever been, very well taken care of and loved by her girlfriend.
I wish better for her. I wish she loved herself enough to know that she doesn’t have to live this way. I wish she knew what real healthy natural love felt like. My hope for her is that someday a sober respectable woman comes along and shows her the life she’s been missing and never known.
I tell you my story of her because it’s part of my journey. A huge part. She will be mentioned in later stories, the life I had with her was the most stable life on my journey that I had. Which is crazy because the life was crazy. But that just shows how if these were my good days then how bad did the bad get? Pretty bad y’all, pretty bad.
I didn’t think I would ever get over her, I thought I would stay obsessed forever. I was addicted to the thought of her. Until I met my husband. I learned what healthy love was. I learned that relationships don’t have to come with jealousy and physically fighting all the time. I learned that you can have a normal happy life together without accusations and going through each others phones. I learned that when you get angry, you don’t hit. You leave the room or you talk about it.
But my story needed her. She taught me to love again. She picked up these broken shattered pieces of me and put them together the best she could. But then she broke me again and again and again but still somehow I ran back for more.
I don’t think she’s a bad person, if I painted her in that light I didn’t mean to. I think I wasn’t meant for her, and that she tried to leave and I wouldn’t stay away to let us both move on and as a result I continuously got my heart-broken.
There’s a lesson to be learned here. People will tell you and show you how they feel about you but you have to pay attention and you have to believe them. Someone who loves you won’t leave you and cheat on you every other week. Someone who loves you won’t hit you and you won’t want to hit them either. You’ll encourage each other to do better in life not worse.
I was so toxic for her, just like how she was so toxic for me. But out of all my stories, hers is one I wouldn’t change.