Maybe I was over him a little, I would say that I had at least successfully distracted myself. All the pictures I ever had of him are gone. We never had a song, though I still enjoy listening to the music he introduced me to, but I don’t indulge in that too often.
My eating disorder has gotten worse; I no longer have an incentive to be better, to take care of myself.
Him telling me that my religious beliefs are extreme, that my way of living is crazy fanatic and that I need to get away from my family hurt me more than I can put into words.
What I miss
I loved how he was the first guy I met who never gave me the feeling that he wanted me to slow down. He never said anything like him wanting me to chill, to take a break etc. All he said was that he wished I didn’t rush/force things with my education/career. I’ve grown to be quite ambitious over the years, I’m done with settling for less than I can achieve. He always called me a boss babe for that reason.
He’s the only one I felt like talking to. The only one I opened up to about my struggles with depression, eating disorders, self harm, self improvement and body dysmorphia. The only one I felt like kissing despite knowing that he has a LOT of experience, which usually is a huge turnoff for me.
His political views disgust me
I loved who I thought he was, and I remember how he sent me pictures of something remotely folklore (hard to explain but it may be comparable to celebrating the civil war) in the early stages of our friendship, maybe three years ago. This should have hinted at his political views - he’s fairly patriotic and never understood why I’m not as in touch with my country as he is with his. I was shocked to find he didn’t see the bad side of his country’s customs (which are similar to my country’s). He loves the military, I’m a pacifist. He supports compulsory military training and had very conservative views on some topics while not respecting my choice to remain a virgin until after marriage. He doesn’t see anything bad with his views of the world but always criticised mine.
I want to move on
I wish I could move on, I wish I could say that I don’t care, but I do. I’m not over him. I have nightmares again, I can’t sleep, I try to focus on school but get annoyed easily because there’s no point in people talking to me. They’re not him, they can’t help, they’re boring, there’s no point. They won’t laugh when I say „Agglo is aggro today“, instead, they’ll mock me because my dialect is different than theirs. With him, I felt safe. Like I could say anything I wanted without being judged.
I see all my issues with my family and want to scream due to the frustration I’m feeling. I need him more than I’ve ever needed him, and I know that I have to forget he ever existed, because if I don’t, I’ll move to his city, and I’ll walk through each and every corner of it until I find his apartment. Just to know where he lives. Not because I’m a stalker, but because I still cannot believe that he’s real. It would bring me peace to know he actually exists. At the same time, he’s hurt me so much that it would also be a relief to find out he’s just a video game character, someone not real, someone purely fictional.
What wasn't so great
I’ll never forget the good things he said about me, but I still cry when I remember all the bad, dark things he texted me. I’ll never forget asking my friends what he meant when he said „you’re an ungrateful piece of meat“ and them looking at me with an expression of horror and judging me more than they ever did before that. I’ll never forget them telling me individually „You know, we don’t ship you as a couple, right?“. Yeah, he insulted me, but he has major mental health issues and still helped me more times than I can count. I don’t know why I’m still justifying his numerous hurtful comments that accumulated over the years. He asked me to delete his text messages more than once, sometimes I did, sometimes I didn’t, and once I deleted each message he no longer wanted me to have by hand because I wanted to keep the newer ones (which he was okay with), and I cried for an hour while going through these old messages. I didn’t get how a single person could be so cruel. I still don’t understand it if I’m honest, I’m heartbroken over his behaviour.
I thought we were meant for each other on a whole other level. He’s everything I hate and I still loved him. I’m everything he never thought he’d come close to, yet he loved me too at some point. It’s a pity that I was born after 2000, that I didn’t grow up near him, that I couldn’t prevent him from falling for someone who died in a car crash. It hurts me personally that he’s lost more than ten friends in the time I’ve known him in unfortunate events that had nothing to do with drugs of any kind. They died in car crashs.
Where I am today
As I’m writing this, I wish I could cry, but I can’t. I’m ashamed because I texted him three days ago, thinking he’d be able to help me with a very large problem of mine. And he did. But I had promised him I wouldn’t text him anymore. He said that he didn’t want to go through „this“ again, that we never knew each other, that I should move on and that he’d stay away from me. I thought he’d be the one for me. I’ll never get why I fell for him, I don’t even find him attractive, but his soul has this huge potential to be beautiful and I decided to see this instead of looking at everything else, all of the negative things.
Sometimes, he’d tell me all the right things in that moment, and sometimes, he’d almost break me.
I miss him more than I can say
I find myself staring at the ceiling, thinking about how in my short life, I’ve never met anyone quite as depressed and interesting as him. I can’t stop thinking about how I’d have loved to discuss Nietzsche with him, how there’s so much I would have loved to show him, how I would have bought boots with heels to tower over him for him to be able to bury his face in my boobs, and how I’ll never be able to show him anything of the world I live in now. I would have loved to meet his parents, something I never expected to happen, but still would have happened eventually. Seeing where he grew up, in one of the most beautiful towns that get a lot of media attention too in my area.
I’ll never forget how I was the first person he opened up to about hating his name. I never used his real name with him, despite secretly loving it. When my friends catch me looking at the sky, losing all facial expression or frowning in general for no reason, they either let me be or ask me whether I’m thinking of him. But they don’t use his real name, and it hurts me, because the fake name he preferred over his real name starts with the same letter as mine.
I don’t believe in destiny, I don’t believe in zodiac signs, but I believed that our connection was real and that it meant something.
Now I’m here, 18 years old, having known this guy who’s 8 years older than me for 3 years and I know that I’ll probably never meet anyone who I care about as much as him. Sometime I’ll open up to someone else as much as I opened up to him. But it won’t be the same. It won’t feel the same. Maybe it’ll be better, probably it will be different, probably not in a good way.
I'm a mess.
I have a new hobby now: I climb mountains nobody else climbs to cry at the top. Because everything reminds me of him, because I’m still not done hoping he’ll text me he’s in my city, because I can’t seem to forget him.
I wish he texted me to tell me he’s okay. I wish I could unfollow his brother in social media. I wish I didn’t get twitter solely for distracting myself from him.
One day, I’ll be okay again, one day, I’ll be over him too.