Isabella Burgos, “I Deserve It”

I DESERVE IT

Isabella Burgos

It’s happened to me before. So I guess you could say I’m used to it. I’m used to being betrayed—or, I guess, feeling like I am being betrayed. There was that time in the fourth grade when my best friend decided that she didn’t like me anymore because her new friends hated me. Or that time when my boyfriend of almost a year switched schools and cheated on me a month later. Yeah. The best part about that one, though, was when I realized that everyone I trusted already knew and just didn’t tell me. I lost ten friends in three days because of that. I was in the 8th grade. And the list goes on. Truly, it does. I could sit here and tell you about them, but that’s embarrassing, and though my tolerance for embarrassment has skyrocketed over the years, I’d really rather not. I felt the same way in all these situations, that’s one thing I can say for certain. No matter how much I’d grown up in the time periods between these instances, I still felt that pit in my stomach every single time. A pit that was packed to the brim with self-doubt and self-pity. I felt bad for myself. And inevitably, those feelings escalated into that of self-loathing. I hated who I was because I somehow tricked myself into believing that I was at fault for the way other people treated me. I’d simply convinced myself that I deserved it. I deserve every bad thing that happens to me ever is something that I’d grown accustomed to reminding myself every chance that I got. I hated a lot of things about me. I hated myself for hating myself, but I also hated when I’d constantly make excuses for myself simultaneously. It was very very hypocritical of me, and I hated that too. The only thing that I seemed to actually like was sleeping, when I slept I became Switzerland in a total war. For this reason, I slept a lot, definitely too much to be considered healthy. My mom had woken me up a few minutes after 4:00 PM. The summer sun was beating through the folding gate that blocked the fire escape. The metal is definitely warm, at least, is the first

thought that came to my mind. My mother’s voice only registered in my ears after a few moments of harsh, kaleidoscope pattern inducing, eye rubs. After I realized that she was talking, I tuned her out. Unbeknownst to her, I already knew what she was saying. It was the same thing she said every day. Some words along the lines of, “You’ve been in bed for days, you need to get up,” as she’d stand over the side of my bed with her arms propped on her hips. “Yes mom, I know I have to get up. The only problem is that the mere thought of even having to move my leg an inch is enough to have me crying, please try to understand,” is what I wanted to say. But I didn’t, instead I looked up at her and rolled my eyes slightly in an attempt to push back the pools of salt water that were already making an appearance. Mom didn’t notice, not the tears anyway; I did get a pointed look for the attitude, though. Deserved. Later that day I met a girl, Nyland, in the comments of a random TikTok. At the time, I thought we’d talk for maybe a day and then never again. In a few days we moved from the TikTok comment section, to TikTok’s direct messaging, and we eventually traded numbers. And in two months, I was able to safely call this girl my absolute best friend. We’d shared extremely vague personal information, literally just the states in which we lived in before proving to each other that we were actual real people. This was something I was new to, I’d never made friends online before purely because I was extremely paranoid of getting attached to someone who wasn’t who they said they were. I took a chance and, honestly speaking, I have no regrets in doing so. In the time of our friendship, we bonded heavily over our life experiences so far. We talked a lot about our interests and we had a lot in common, liked a lot of the same things. As we got to know each other more, we were helping each other get back into the rhythm of life. Finally making a good sleeping schedule and eating properly. Nyland and I sometimes talked about personal problems once we got comfortable enough to; this was about seven months into being friends. I’d let her vent about whatever she needed to vent about, and I’d try my best

to give her anything I could in return. Whether that be advice or just listening to what she had to say. After a few months I slowly started to realize that our venting conversations were immensely one-sided. I wasn’t reciprocated the same attentiveness that I was giving. Am I bothering her? I’m definitely bothering her. You know what, I just won’t say anything. And I didn’t. I let it be. Thirteen months after we met, I was in Massachusetts visiting family. I was in my room down in the basement, it was 12:30 in the morning and it was storming heavily outside. The house was elevated about fifteen inches off the ground, so being in the basement meant nothing when the basement had windows right under the ceiling. They were slightly cracked which let the sound of rain falling and the smell of soaked grass and wet pavement flood the room, both of which would have been extremely calming had I not felt like my world was crashing down around me. Something was happening with my dad and I was stressed. All I needed was someone to talk to. So I picked up my phone and texted Nyland, and I explained to her how I felt about the situation with my father, and I told her that I was having a bad day and that I just really needed someone to talk to, to take my mind off of things for a little bit. I waited, one minute, then five, then ten, and finally I got a text back. I took a deep breath, wiped the tear stains from my cheeks, and I pressed on the notification. I read the text one time, then five, then ten, just to make sure that my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me as they normally did. I realized they weren’t when I closed the app entirely, and opened it again only to see the same words fit together in a single sentence. The same few words that I never in a million years thought would be produced by someone who I’d consider to be so close to. “I’m just gonna ignore that bcs idk what to say and im not ur therapist.” My jaw went slack and my bottom lip started to quiver all over again, I felt suffocated. I let my phone drop to my bed with a light thud, not that I was able to hear it over my heart pounding

in my ears. My chest was rising and collapsing multiple times in the same second, at an unhealthy speed. I felt so many things at once, what was disbelief turned into sadness, then sadness into anger, and they took turns taking jabs at me. Picking up my phone, I frantically ended our friendship in a plethora of unnice, but very true, words. I felt like a burden to her, and I finally told her that. I told her what she already knew, that I always did everything in my power to make her feel better about any situation that she talked to me about, whether I’d been in a similar situation or not. I told her that I was sorry for expecting the same energy back when it was obviously too much for her to put any effort into being a good friend. And I also let her know that I was sick and tired of constantly feeling like I had to walk on eggshells around her. That I tried, and tried, and tried to keep quiet and ignore the way she made me feel because I never wanted to make her feel like a horrible person. I let her know that I didn’t care anymore. I hit the blue arrow, sending my text her way, and then I blocked her number as I saw the three dots appear. I decided that I was absolutely not going to give her the opportunity to argue back, because I knew she would. I knew that she was going to try to do everything in her power to turn the situation back on me and I refused to sit there and let that happen. And guess what…I didn’t regret it. For the first time in my life, I refused to be treated like I was worthless. For the first time I was able to take a step back, look at the situation at hand, and fully realize that I did not deserve this at all. I felt used, as if I were drained of everything I had to offer and left to die. I’d never made online friends before, and this is exactly why. I got attached to Nyland in a way that I never have anyone else, she helped me out of what could have been an extremely scarring depressive state. She helped me feel like I wasn’t alone in a time where I pretty much was. And then months later, she revealed that she really wasn’t the best person to be friends with. Yet, I still don’t regret becoming her friend. She taught me a life lesson, she helped me stop a pattern that was severely harming my mental state and I’m grateful for that. I’m beyond grateful for finally being able to realize that I

am, in fact, not a horrible person. It took a while for me to come to terms with the situation, and it took me a while to accept the new betrayal added to my list. No matter how much I claim to be used to it, it still takes a toll on me just as it would on anyone. The difference is that this time, I didn’t even try to put the blame on me. It was like a breath of fresh air, and that is definitely something I deserve.

302