I am not sure why I am writing this. Perhaps because its because I have not been able to get the thoughts straight in my head. Arguements and conflictions, emotions that keep coming up and rising up without being able to reason with them. Its foolish, and I should be over them by now. Its irrational and foolish. It was just a stupid kiss.
Thats it though isnt it. I have tried to talk to people and it seems everyone is dismissive. You have to establish yourself by your own views, and talk of not measuring how you see yourself by others. All the usual horse shit they feed themselves while blatantly doing the opposite. If it wasnt such a big deal, why keep saying the same thing over and over. If you really dont feel you arnt affected by how others see you, why keep mentioning it, why keep bringing it up. So am I just over reacting and being over sensitive to how I feel about having my own image of myself shattered by having my first kiss stolen. Either it was a precious gem worth something to steal, or it was a worthless nothin that had no meaning, which is it, you cant have it both ways.
Girls grow up with idealistic views. Its complete horse shit. You are told that the first kiss will be precious, something magical. A moment that will hold so much meaning. A moment that is tender, the blush of womanhood to come. It is a moment that speaks of a promise of the woman you will be. The beauty and romance, the blush and hope. The sweet awkwardness of first love. At least. That is what you are made to believe. Somewhere deep inside, I think I believed that, or wanted to. Perhaps from the songs my mother sang when I was young, and the stories read to me of fair maidens and find lords. That small little girls in me dreamed. Even through the broken days it was a lingering things. The last remnants of my mothers heart. I sang those songs and felt them lift me above it all. Felt the passion and fury deep inside me. The longing of hope lingering like some flower blooming on a mountain side. It was foolish I know. Dreams of romance usually are. A girls folly is often her downfall. I of all people should know reality is far from sweet smelling and glistening with opals, but rather smells of iron and is often tanrished.
Still. I had thought that in the moments I had built myself up. Stood strong and proud. Confident and felt for the first time in a long while that I had made a stand in what I had wanted and needed for myself as a woman. A real woman. In what would occur next tween he and I. That I needed that space, I needed time to grow up before anything could move forward as I wanted to be able to eventually grab for that dream. To be able to feel properly those feelings he so desparatately longed for, that I was not yet able to grasp due to my own unsteady nature; He told me no, he wouldn't respect my boundaries, that he would step right over them, no differently than my brother had thousands of times before. To take what he wanted, do as he pleased. In that moment the conflict was so overwhelming. He stole that kiss. My first kiss. Ripped it from me, and in that confusion I didn't know what to do. How to regain any strength at all. If I let him just take without any come back its never mine, and if I give anything back he has been given permission to take again. The briefest moment I returned that kiss in sheer confusion in wanting to take something back, salvage something from that kiss, but the fear and shock so overwhelmed me.
He had tried then to pull me into him, grabbing me. The fear only growing and I wanted to gut him, to kill him. I hated him for an instant I saw my brothers face and I wanted to destroy him. I felt myself shatter completely in a way I cant describe to anyone, an no one is listening to my words. I lost myself that day. Lost all sense of who I was in that moment. I lost more than my first kiss, but a sense of who I was and I had no one to turn to. They would all blame me for it, I blame me for it. I still do. There is a fire inside of me that so desperately wants to break free, but it feels so caged in, so tempered down. There is so much inside of me that wants to scream, shout, beg to be seen, but I dare not let it out.
Is a first kiss supposed to be important or not, is it supposed to be this wondrous thing or is it just a kiss. He got his first kiss from his wife, when they were young, he will always remember it, cherish it, be able to look back fondly. He stole mine.
Mine is this thing that creeps up on me as a moment that happened as an adult that happened at a precious point in my life. When I made a stand for myself as a woman, and failed miserably. I was proven to be unable to be respected as a strong and determined woman who could set boundaries and instead treated as a damsel needing to be made to submit like a coy maiden. That isnt words, that is action. I wasnt just told how someone saw me, I was shown. Its not the same, its not saying this is how people see me, its not saying I feel this way because people think of me this way. I feel this because I was shown this by actions. Its no longer him I am upset with. I am frustrated by words, lack of understanding, lack of being able to find the woman I had found the moments before then. I am angry at how we define first times. If they are important say so. Mean it. Dont say they are then say that its fine if they arnt good, actually be annoyed and angry, be upset for someone who has a bad experience and commiserate with them dont blow it off like its nothing. These half hearted attempts to make it out to be nothing leave a person feeling worthless, helpless, alone. Make them feel like they failed at living. I didnt failt at living. I am not a failure just because my first kiss was a screwed up thing that happened the wrong way. Dont look sad at me and treat me with pity like I am pathetic. Realise that something real happened. Else, dont tell me that my feeling my self image feeling broken is false because only how I feel about myself is important. Not how others see me, because you are already passing judgement with your own words..
