Letters to Two Ghosts
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Lily P. Merrell
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content note: sexual violence, trauma, and recovery
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Dear You,
Do you remember the time you cornered me into forgiving you? It had been years since we last spoke. We ended up in the same mentoring program being trained in the same room. As soon as you walked into the room, it all came back. I started shaking, I couldn’t help it. I tried to avoid talking to you, but I had to. Afterward, I was outside waiting for my mom to pick me up, and you asked if we could talk. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. You apologized, but it wasn’t a real apology, because you were making excuses the whole time. You told me you’d been worried ever since that I hate you. And for some reason I said it:
Do you remember the time you cornered me into forgiving you? It had been years since we last spoke. We ended up in the same mentoring program being trained in the same room. As soon as you walked into the room, it all came back. I started shaking, I couldn’t help it. I tried to avoid talking to you, but I had to. Afterward, I was outside waiting for my mom to pick me up, and you asked if we could talk. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. You apologized, but it wasn’t a real apology, because you were making excuses the whole time. You told me you’d been worried ever since that I hate you. And for some reason I said it:
“I don’t hate you.”
You were relieved. You thought you could just talk to me. You thought you could request to follow my Instagram. But there’s a big difference between “I don’t hate you” and “I forgive you.” I try really hard not to hate you, because hating you doesn’t help me, but I in no way forgive you. You get to walk around every day, completely fine, when for years I have had to carry around the ghost of you and everything you did to me. You made me feel like I didn’t belong to me. Like I couldn’t make any other choice. For years I couldn’t sleep on the left side of the bed, because that’s where I slept when I was next to you, and just being there brought me back. I didn’t feel comfortable in my skin, in my body, because your hands had touched it and made it not mine. And even still, I never feel confident that it really happened, because it was kind of my idea the first time it happened. But because it happened once you thought it could happen whenever you wanted, and I started to feel trapped every time I walked into your room, like I couldn’t breathe. I still feel like that sometimes. And you still live your life completely unaffected, thinking that because I said “I don’t hate you,” that means you did nothing wrong.
Dear You,
I don’t want to write to you. I don’t want you to take up room in my life anymore, I don’t want you to be a part of me anymore. But I can’t keep it inside anymore.
I try not to have room in my heart to hate you, but I think I do hate you. If not you, I hate a lot of things about you and how you treated me. I hate that you never wanted to hang out at my house and that you didn’t want to spend time with my family. You made me choose you over them and you took me away from the people that really had my back, the people that ended up catching me when you let go.
I told you I had never had sex before, that I was scared. You told me you wanted to take things slow, but before I knew it I was in your bed. I had no idea what I was doing, and I thought I might be ready, but I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to say no to you, I didn’t think I could. I hate that you would sometimes just come over to have sex and then you would leave me. I hate that I felt like I had to pretend it was good, when it wasn’t. I hate that you blamed me when you weren’t in a good place.
I hate that you tried to change me, subtly, to make me more like you or more like the person you wanted. I hate that you made me afraid to tell you things and show sides of myself around you because I was afraid you would judge me for being my whole self. And I hate that I let you change me, that I made myself smaller for you, that I thought it was normal.
I hate that I wonder if I’m remembering things wrong, if I’m exaggerating how terrible you made me feel sometimes. I wonder if I just want you to be the villain so it’s easier to get over you. But the pain you caused me is real.
Dear Both of You,
I know you didn’t have it easy, that people have done bad things to you and that you have a lot of your own baggage, but that does not give you the right to hurt people. You both hurt me. I will probably carry pieces of that with me everywhere I go, but I refuse to let you have any power over me anymore. Because of what you did to me, part of me is afraid to ever put my heart in someone else’s hand again. But I know what real love is now, and one day I will find someone who will give it to me. I hope that you both learn not to hurt other people, and I hope I never have to write to You again.
Dear You,
I don’t want to write to you. I don’t want you to take up room in my life anymore, I don’t want you to be a part of me anymore. But I can’t keep it inside anymore.
I try not to have room in my heart to hate you, but I think I do hate you. If not you, I hate a lot of things about you and how you treated me. I hate that you never wanted to hang out at my house and that you didn’t want to spend time with my family. You made me choose you over them and you took me away from the people that really had my back, the people that ended up catching me when you let go.
I told you I had never had sex before, that I was scared. You told me you wanted to take things slow, but before I knew it I was in your bed. I had no idea what I was doing, and I thought I might be ready, but I wasn’t. I didn’t know how to say no to you, I didn’t think I could. I hate that you would sometimes just come over to have sex and then you would leave me. I hate that I felt like I had to pretend it was good, when it wasn’t. I hate that you blamed me when you weren’t in a good place.
I hate that you tried to change me, subtly, to make me more like you or more like the person you wanted. I hate that you made me afraid to tell you things and show sides of myself around you because I was afraid you would judge me for being my whole self. And I hate that I let you change me, that I made myself smaller for you, that I thought it was normal.
I hate that I wonder if I’m remembering things wrong, if I’m exaggerating how terrible you made me feel sometimes. I wonder if I just want you to be the villain so it’s easier to get over you. But the pain you caused me is real.
Dear Both of You,
I know you didn’t have it easy, that people have done bad things to you and that you have a lot of your own baggage, but that does not give you the right to hurt people. You both hurt me. I will probably carry pieces of that with me everywhere I go, but I refuse to let you have any power over me anymore. Because of what you did to me, part of me is afraid to ever put my heart in someone else’s hand again. But I know what real love is now, and one day I will find someone who will give it to me. I hope that you both learn not to hurt other people, and I hope I never have to write to You again.
Lily P. Merrell was born and raised in Chico, California and is now attending Cal Poly Humboldt for a bachelor’s degree in English Education. An avid reader and writer, Lily strongly believes in the power words have to change the world, and hopes to one day inspire others to find their own voice.
