?

Log in

savanah · martin

Recent Entries · Archive · Friends · Profile

* * *
I started the morning hating you and ended the afternoon kissing you. I'm not sure what happened in between.
* * *
I would choose you every time, no matter how much this hurts.
* * *
Dear Josh,

I don't even know where to begin in writing this letter, but I know that nothing will change if I don't. I still can't believe this whole situation, it's so far beyond me I still can't even grasp it. This is me trying to understand and trying to come to terms with it, but at the same time still voicing how I perceive it.

I love you. Nothing, not even this will ever change that and I will go on loving you for the rest of my days. I will always look at you as the person who taught me the most about life, love, and myself. And even though it tears me apart to write this, you need to know how I feel contrary to what I show you and have shown you. I know I'll never stop loving you. Now, it's impossible. You're the father of my child, between us we've made a life. I share that with only you and wouldn't want it any other way. I'm sorry for all I've failed to give you. You and I are two entirely different people and the only reason we first got together was because we became addicted to sex with each other. After the sex came the drugs and alcohol, but those weren't so much of an addiction but more of something to pass the time together, something to experience together, and something to create a common ground between us. You were comfortable in the money you were making and we were frivolous with it. It was also summer time when we first came to be, there was never an agenda and there was always a place to go for us back then. Sometimes, we didn't even need a destination. Also, the newness and uniqueness of the whole relationship was intoxicating for the both of us, it's no wonder we fell in love. My mother tried so hard to drive us apart, and I think that only furthered our longing for each other and need to strengthen our bonds. I think anyone can just take a step back and say that there's no basing a relationship off of what we had that summer, but we did anyway and we did it the only way we knew how. I honestly think that we made it work for us for a long time. Even though we were both unfaithful, I think it just made us want to make it work even more. I know that for me, it didn't matter how much it hurt me, I knew I couldn't throw what we had away because of the love we'd built. I don't think that that ruined us, though it did make things exceptionally harder. I think that it wasn't until Robbie went to jail that things began to sour between us. I can understand that such a loss for you was compelling enough to alter your life, but I don't think it was necessary to alter our relationship the way it did. Nevertheless, I made sure I was there for you and I wanted to try my absolute hardest to make you feel better during such a trying time. But it seemed none of my efforts could exact happiness for you. We started hanging out with Dan, Jaimie, Joey, Zach, Jon, Heather, and Justin right around that time and I think that that put more strain on us as well. We were avoiding dealing with each other and our own problems be preoccupying ourselves with other people and other things to do. Granted, it was something for us to do together. But then you lost your job because of me, which was a huge blow to your ego and our relationship. The same night my mother, Rob, and I rushed you to the hospital because of the amount of Ibuprofen you'd taken, because I wanted to have fun with my friends without you nagging me. I was still drunk when I ran upstairs and woke my mother up to tell her that you were trying to overdose. When we picked you up, I couldn't even look at you. You kept trying to hold my hand and hold me, but I couldn't even keep my composure. It didn't matter how drunk I was, though, because I distinctly remember waiting at the edge of my seat in the waiting room for the few hours we were there, begging the nurses to tell me when I could come and see you. I still will never forget the sight of you with charcoal staining your lips as you lay in that hospital bed. I won't ever forget the doctor telling me that you might have damaged your kidneys and that we were lucky that you didn't keep going like you said you would have done. And after all of that, we still managed to pull through. We began spending the days naked in your bed again, ordering pizza with your dad's money when we knew we really shouldn't have. Then we started doing drugs again. I think this is where our relations turned towards the better because we were reverting back to our old selves. Opiates were the greatest escape we could have ever asked for at that point, but that was only a temporary thing. (All I can think of is Justin and Charlene's relationship and how easily we could have ended up like them.) Throughout all of this, the one thing we kept saying to get each other through the next day was, “I can't wait until summer, it'll be ours again.” And then before we knew it, summer was upon us again, but it was different this time. We knew each other so intimately, everything wasn't new and unknown and forbidden like it was the previous summer. We'd even become embittered with what had transpired over the past year. You stopped having sex with me, probably because I'd beaten your ego to a pulp for costing you your job and for never leaving you alone about getting another one. This only soured things more between us because it cut off one of the main supplies to our relationship, it was one the bases on which it stood. I would be lying if I said this didn't hurt me immensely. This was the one thing I'd associated with closeness with you, and you were throwing it away. I'm not a physical person by any means, and by being physical with you, it meant the world to me. We still managed, though. We started preoccupying ourselves again, you organized smash night and we were surrounded by company all the time, which gave us the distraction we'd needed earlier in our relationship to get through the hard time. We started introducing sex again, things began to get healthier (or as healthy as we could ever be) between us. We'd even started doing drugs and drinking again. Things were getting better. But even with all of these things, we were still persistently riddled with our past insecurities and even creating new ones. You had to struggle to pull the rent together at the last minute every month, you still didn't have a job, Justin was a complete and total dunce and a horrible roommate, I invited my friends over whenever I wanted even though you hated them, and I was unhappy with how unhappy you were. All of this put so much stress on us. I would completely shut down at the mere mention trying to work on our problems, which would lead to you screaming in my face. It sucked. Neither of us were right. And then I betrayed you. I really wish I could avoid addressing this, but it's something that's come to shape us into what we are now. It was an impulsive, immature, and stupid thing to have done. I've never regretted something more in my life than that night. I didn't know about the ring. At that time, I was four weeks pregnant and I drank. I was in a relationship with you that wasn't in the best shape, but cheating on you was most definitely not the answer. It devastated you, and all I could think about was myself. You had to beg me to come see you because you weren't sure you were going to be able to make it through the day. You had to beg me to stay with you when I just wanted to leave you because I felt so guilty. And I agreed to stay with you, and you spent the next few weeks smoking weed with Whipple and drinking because it was the only thing you knew how to do in coping with what I'd done. But we stayed together. Disbelievingly, we stayed together. You swallowed everything up and things almost returned to normal, I was an idiot for thinking so. I honestly thought that things were really as okay as you made them seem. And then, on September seventh, you bought me a pregnancy test. We'd been avoiding it for how long? I'd hadn't had my period in weeks. And then, that night, as September slept in my bed, I got up because I couldn't take not knowing anymore. At 2:05 in the morning, I found out I was pregnant and called you in tears because of how scared I was. I couldn't even think. And you sat there and said that you wanted our baby no matter what and that you were going to be there for me. And I clung to those words.

Even though you haven't been there for me throughout my entire pregnancy, I've chosen to overlook it because I love you. I've always been one to make excuses for you and stick up for you throughout our entire relationship and this instance isn't exempt. You have great potential to be a wonderful, loving father, and I know your intentions are to be one, but it's getting there that's been a struggle, and that continues to be a struggle. I think that because we're so young and expecting, the transition into parenthood has been daunting. I've already come to terms with all that I'm going to need to give up, I know how much harder things are going to be (regardless of the fact that I'm living with my mother again and she's going to provide for me. This doesn't mean I'm completely dumb to that fact.) and I know that I'm going to do right by our son. What you've shown me, and this is just my opinion, is that you're not ready to be a father. You claimed that you wanted this baby because it was something we created, but all you've done is just run away. When I was three months pregnant, you spent a whole month with your friends drinking and partying, and broke up with me, leaving me with the child that you wanted. And I understand that you were still hurt from my infidelity, I don't blame you for not wanting anything to do with me, and I don't know if I would have done any better in the situation. I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you to cope with that and still look me in the eye and act like everything was mostly alright. And I can't imagine what went through your mind when you first found out I was pregnant. But though my cheating on you happened in the midst of all this, you still wanted to have this baby, yet you weren't in any hurry to prove that that was so. I had to sit at home with the child I wasn't even sure that I wanted, with the child you were set on having while you lived it up being single and irresponsible. Did that make much sense? I'm not going to sit here and lie and say that I wanted him for the right reasons because I didn't. The prospect of making and having a family with you was the greatest thing I could have aspired to, it was the most beautiful notion in the world to me; but I kept him mostly because you wanted him, and you weren't even there to claim him. If you think about it, I could be going to France and Spain in April, rather than giving birth. And if you'd said something to me earlier about not being happy with me, then this would have been taken care of. Perhaps we'd be leading entirely different lives independent of each other. If it really was a year ago that you'd realized this, we could have avoided all of these roadblocks entirely. You would probably still have your job at Taco Bell. I might have passed all my classes last year. You might have finally gotten your license and GED and had something to aspire to, without me to distract you or enable you to not care enough about it. I never would have hurt you so badly because I never would have cheated on you because we wouldn't have been together. I never would have fallen pregnant. I never would have had to gone through the social repercussions of being a pregnant teenager. I never would have had to go through the heartbreak of you leaving me at three months pregnant. I never would have been as seriously hurt by my own sister's pregnancy. I never would have moved in with you so soon. I never would have stressed you out further. I never would have been so deeply hurt at this point in my life. But you wanted to keep trying at us, and I guess there's no shame in that. Maybe your intentions behind not breaking it off were only good and they just led to bad things, we have no way of knowing. So after your month of partying, we got back together, and then I broke it off with you because I was tired of you jerking me around with how undecided you were with us. I told you that I only wanted to be with you if you were sure of what you wanted, and that you wanted to be with me. And then we went to the ultrasound, which was the first thing you'd done with me and him since we found out I was pregnant. I'll never forget the instant we saw him on that monitor; you'd grabbed my hand and held it close to your body and I knew you'd made your decision about us. And things carried on from there. We'd have our occasional spats, but for the most part, we were functional. You went with me when I applied for MaineCare and WIC, and talked with the nutritionist with me at Avis Goodwin. We would go grocery shopping together, even though it made you hate me exponentially more than you already did. You began to quit smoking, which made me so proud. Robbie got out of jail after a year, and the two of you were reunited. I was so happy for you, and I'm sure you were very pleased yourself. I secretly thought to myself that finally, you'd have another outlet and that maybe, some of what had been pent-up over the last few months could possibly come out and things would improve even more between the two of us. And then, it felt like my life literally fell apart. My idiot of a sister knocked herself up after all the horrible things she'd said to me about my own pregnancy. And you were there for me. I didn't give you an option, I just remember saying to you, “If she's pregnant, then I'm leaving for good.” You got your mother to come and get me when I made the call. And then, when I threw all my bags down on the bedroom floor, you held me as I bawled my eyes out. You laid in bed with me and just listened to me sob. It was the best you'd ever done at making me feel better about something, and I was so astonished at how nicely and easily you took to doing so. I honestly felt like things were perfect between the two of us, despite other things in my life being less than such. And then we got into that big argument, and you revealed that nothing had changed. You told me that you still resented me, you told me that all the changing I'd been doing over the past few months for you was doing nothing. You called my mother screaming. I shouldn't have gotten as upset as I did at seven months pregnant, but after everything that had just happened to me, it was overwhelming. I'm sure that having another person to support was just as overwhelming for you, so I can't say much there. And I don't know how, but after that fight, we worked it out. It was such a bad fight, it was probably the worst we'd ever had, but we resolved to work on our differences yet again and try and make things as best as they could be for both of us and for Dorian. And then a month passed. To you, I'm sure it was a month of me constantly nagging, not getting enough sleep because of how big I was getting, and a month of misery because of how unhappy you claim to be. To me, it wasn't much different, I did have to push you a lot in order to get some help for myself, and I wasn't getting as much sleep either because I had to share my body with both you and your son. I thought things were shaping up. I began to leave you notes in the morning before leaving for school, and cleaned the house as much as possible. I was unhappy with certain aspects of my life, but I was always overjoyed whenever I first came to see you. I would always anticipate your arrival whenever you got out of work, like I used to when we first got together, though back then I was to forty pounds lighter, waiting naked for you in bed. In my mind, I was creating a fantasy where I'd have supper ready for you when you got home from work, and that this was just a prequel to what real life together would be like. I would be raising our children, cooking, cleaning, and heralding your arrival from work with utter joy. I honestly thought like that, so you can only imagine my disappointment when reality set in. We started arguing again little by little, probably because I was pushing to get things done and you just didn't want to have any of it. I was looking for constant validation, and that came in the form of me nagging you and asking things of you constantly to make sure everything was going to be okay. My insecurity drove you insane. And then you snapped. After my shower, you told me of how angry you still were that you weren't getting the last name. We began to argue and you questioned the paternity of our baby. You told me that you weren't going to sign the affidavit in the delivery room acknowledging that you were the father. It's hard for me to understand from your perspective (I wouldn't have kept him had I not been sure he was yours and the date of conception is an entire month before I cheated) but at the same time, I can't fully immerse myself in your shoes. But the fact that you said that was devastating. Why, after all this work I'd put into preparing to be a mother, after all the times you made me feel horrible for wanting to give him up, after fighting to keep him, did you deny him? Why were you still fighting for the last name if you didn't even think he was yours? And why did you wait until I was eight months pregnant to do so? You then told me that all you wanted was to be left alone. Of course I didn't take that lightly. I constantly wanted to cling to you and always be around you, but you're the complete opposite and wanted your space. I didn't understand this, but tried my best to accept it and respect it. But because this fight left us in such a delicate spot, I kept my mouth shut, even though it upset me so much. Just days later, we got into another argument that started with talking about car insurance, but then quickly changed to how upset I'd been over the last few days. I began telling you of my insecurities and you responded by getting angry with me over why I was upset, when just days before when you were professing to me that you didn't think you were Dorian's father, I had to keep my mouth shut. I was so distraught that I slept on the couch that night. And then, for the next two nights, I didn't see you. You told me we were over, to move out, you got drunk and high during the time you were away and probably gave up on quitting smoking. You left me at the house with no money, with the possibility of pre-eclampsia, and with nothing at eight months pregnant because you wanted to be left alone. I sat in bed every day and cried for us, cried for your son, cried for myself. The doctor told me not to get stressed out for fear of further risking both my life and the baby's life, but it was kind of hard to avoid when I felt so abandoned. As much as I was sad, I was also just as angry because of the situation. Why, while I'm eight months pregnant, were you pulling this? Was your desperation to be alone so bad that you had to abandon me? When you came back, you were very nonchalant when I'd informed you of my condition. You sat across from me on the bed and calmly told me that you weren't happy anymore and because of this, you didn't want to be with me. You said you loved me and cared about me and that you never wanted anything bad to ever befall me, but that you couldn't be with me. You had tears in your eyes as you told me this. And I reacted to none of it. I couldn't of, at that point, I was so numb to all you were saying to me. I also had to numb myself for fear of making my blood pressure skyrocket. At first, it seemed like I'd come to terms with what you'd said to me. It seemed like I was okay with the fact that you didn't want to be with me anymore, but soon, after you began acting completely unphased, I got upset. I locked myself in the bathroom and wept. I couldn't believe that after almost two years, that was your reaction to our deterioration. And you came in and sat down with me and I pleaded with you to stay with me. I said anything and everything I thought would matter to you, that would help me sway you into my favor again. But this time was unlike all the other times in the respect that you held your ground and said, “No.” When we came back out of the bathroom, you led me back to the bed and you ate your supper. I began to question you and asked why you'd waited until I was eight months pregnant to tell me that you were unhappy with me. You responded by asking me if we could continue talking about it the next day. I'd been so tired of waiting for you—I'd waited two days and nights to hear from you and see you, but you'd made a point to keep away—and told you that, but in the end, I relented and agreed. We slept together that night, but you didn't subconsciously hold me in your sleep as you had done every other night. That was what told me you were serious. The next morning, I woke up an hour before you did. You then proceeded to leave me yet again because you had to fill the propane tank. When I'd asked you if we were going to talk, you merely responded with an, “I don't know” and acted as if it were nothing. Well, I don't know how you didn't know that that made me angrier beyond all reason. When you came back, I was getting ready and leaving to do something with my mother. I hated you. You put me through so much pain, neglected your son, and acted as if it were nothing. You asked what happened to the blubbering mess I was the previous night, asked about counseling and I said that I didn't want to do anything with you. In truth, if we weren't having a child together and we were breaking up, that statement would have been proven true. I wouldn't want anything to do with you if we weren't together, but having a baby complicated things. I would never have wanted to have Dorian had I known that we weren't going to be together. The reason why I wanted to have him was because I was so excited about having a family with you. Having you tell me that you didn't want to be with me anymore broke my heart. And it still would have been broken, even if we weren't having him. You're the only person I could ever think of myself spending the rest of my life with, and you no longer want to share that with me. I was so angry with you, I started incorporating what had been hurting me for so long into what banter we had left for each other while I waited for my mother to pick me up. I told you you were ridiculous to think that you could ever gain full custody; how could you ever be there for him in life if you were never there for him before he was born? I taunted you which, at the time, seemed most sensible to me. But none of it changed the fact that you no longer wanted to be with me. None of it would bring me any closer to feeling relief to the pain you'd caused me.

And I sit here now and write this in retrospect, but I don't think I'm any wiser. Every night I'm stuck with the realization that you no longer want to be with me, that it isn't me anymore that you want to hold while you go to sleep, or share your day with. I'm stuck feeling the son we made move around inside me, knowing that he will never have the family I dreamed he would have. I crawled back to my mother's house, tail between my legs, back to the hellhole that is living with Sierra after all the things I fought for to live in a home with you. I told myself that taking everything of mine back from your house would make me feel better, knowing that you were left with nothing, but felt too bad about it. I didn't want you to feel anything like me. I think of all the times you left me and your son because you weren't ready to cope with all the responsibility, knowing that he and I could never have afforded that if I did the same thing. I go through every day walking around, carrying within my belly a constant reminder of the love we shared and can only weep to myself of how it's being tossed away. I sit in my mother's prison of a house knowing you sent me back here. I think of what your tattoo means now. I don't know what I'm going to do on the eleventh of every month, no matter how childish it is. I have to sleep in the room with all the baby things knowing I'll never have the opportunity to set up a nursery with you, together as we prepare to become a family. The only music I can listen to is classical I know the only song I'm going to want to listen to is Some Girls Make Weaponry. I go to school and can't even think of a response when people ask about you. (I already know how you speak of me, Sam told me all about how smug and happy you were in informing her of our break up.) I can't allow myself a spare moment for fear of thinking about you, for fear of driving myself crazy thinking about what I could have done to prevent this. I wake up every morning well-rested, but without you by my side, it's the most dissatisfying, unfulfilling feeling in the world. I don't ever stop crying. I can only think of how much easier all of this has been on you, and how it will continue to be. When behind the wheel, I can only think of my destination being somewhere that would lead me back to you, or into an oncoming car. But I can't do that, not to you, not to Dorian, and not to my family. I learned that the first time you left me. But I also learned, through this whole experience, that no matter what, my son will need me and that he will be there. I will be there to love him and care for him and he will be there to need me and come to love me as well. And this love, though unlike our love, will amount to so much more.

Though it's hard for me now, I will try and accept this change. I like to think that we don't need to be on good terms in order to be parents. It's not going to be easy on either of us, I'm going to be spiteful and resentful, for so many reasons. No matter how much I can make myself hate you, though, I will always be here for you. Nothing will stop me from rushing to your side if ever need be. I will always care about you. And though I wish I could just say goodbye, I know I can't. We have so much history and even more to make together.

“You've stolen the life from my fingertips, my lungs too
and I hope with all that I am you never give it back to me.
Without people like you, there would be no poetry in the world,
there'd be no such thing as flowers and outer space.”

Love,
Savanah
* * *
we all go to sleep at night taking for granted that the sun will rise in the morning, but what if the sun was just too tired to come up?
* * *
darling, there are just as many ways of saying goodbye as there are ways of letting you go. the boat is narrow like the width of my heart after impossible loss, cruel resignation; this heart you ride in. love, if this is how you choose to leave me, let me let you.
* * *
* * *
the only thing i want to do is die, but i can't even do that because of the little life inside me that depends on me. this is the worst time of my life.
* * *
* * *
i might actually lose you.
* * *
i've been eating so well for the baby with more than three fruits a day, all the fiber in the world, nothing processed in my house, and the vitamins every single monotonous day. the whole situation still hasn't hit anyone yet, i'm still caught up in the surreality of it all, but i think that watching my little peanut up on the screen stretching and moving it's arms around was enough for me to know that it's real and as real as it gets. so is the scrutiny, but it has to be expected considering i'm seventeen and pregnant. i'm not ashamed, being a mother is the most honorable of all the jobs out there, and i know for a fact that i will be a good, responsible one. i have more brains and more maturity than my whole fucking school and if that means biting my tongue when i get cold stares and when i get wind of my name in peoples' mouths, then i will. i don't want to ever get stressed for the baby's sake, but it's so hard when i'm such a high-strung person, let alone the situation i'm in. it doesn't matter. i'm a strong person, i will get through this and gain the greatest gift in the world; my own child.
* * *
oh this little light, this little life, dwelling inside of me. will we grow to love each other as you grow from me? only time will tell. until then, i can only dream of knowing you, little one,
* * *
* * *

Previous