So I've been in love for a while, with someone who I (I came to accept years ago) would never love me back. I've always felt guilty for loving him because I've been in a relationship with one of his extended family members for years... I always tried to let my feelings for him go, but I just never could.
Over the years, I watched him go out with other girls, and then I watched him have a kid with one. They started making wedding arrangements - then she decided she didn't want to marry him, and they broke up.
I guess he came to me on the rebound, and God knows it's wrong of me, but I flat out didn't care. I took whatever I could get from him... but I never fucked him. I didn't fuck him because I'm in love with him, and I knew he didn't feel the same way. I couldn't let him just take me like that and then send me back to my partner like nothing happened. That would have hurt me worse than having to watch him get married.
Anyway, I fucked it all up and now everything is shit. My partner found out what was going on, confronted me and now, half a year later, is under the impression that everything is fine and that I don't care about that guy anymore. So I'm basically in the same position I was before I started messing around with him, but the only difference is that I haven't talked to him since and it's literally killing me. I started doing hard drugs again, but now it's every single fucking day, so that I could just stop fucking crying and I'm probably an addict now. I go between alternate states of being too fucked up to care about anything, to suicidal, to begging God to just make me disappear and wipe the memory of me from anywhere it exists on Earth (which really isn't too many places) to begging God to let not let me die from the drugs so I can keep taking care of my mom. The only reason I haven't killed myself yet is that I know it would destroy my parents... but I did think my birthday would be the easiest thing so that they would only have to mourn on one day.
The worst part is that he doesn't really give a fuck about me. So now, instead of simply having imaginary daydreams of what might be, I have memories of what was... and that's what I'm stuck with. I guess it's fucked up of me to say this, but I wouldn't give up the experience for anything. But to have had a taste of the divine, and then have it so abruptly taken... it's like I'm already dead. All I can think of is why am I not good enough for him to want to fight for? I couldn't do it by myself... I needed his help. My partner is extremely verbally abusive and controlling and it's been too long. I'm afraid they'll snap if I try to leave (or, rather, kick them out). And, despite, this, there's a part of me that loves them, though I'm not in love with them anymore, and I just can't hurt them like that.
Well, that's not it, but that's it for me. My life has really been pretty fucked up. But none of that matters anymore. He made me feel normal for the first time in my life, and now I'm just more fucked up than ever. I honestly don't know if I am good enough... if I'm just too fucked up to give him what he wants in a woman. Who would want someone with so much baggage? I guess I don't blame him. God, I'm pathetic. | |
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