My girlfriend left me and everything is worse now

Yeah. It turns out that I thought everything was going well, but it wasn't. She was not telling me about everything. I feel blindsided and betrayed. I don't want to live anymore, even though I got my job contract on that exact same day, coincidentally enough.If you got anything, tell me. If I got anything, I'll tell you.

Where did that simple principle we had discussed go? You were "sitting back and observing". Ah. Okay. Just tell me you didn't want to be alone. Stepmom says that you likely started getting attached and you got scared. Understandable. I had doubts too at the beginning but I pushed through them. I did it scared.

The day we had sex for the first time I think, or another one where we did, perhaps the second, I told you I was afraid of my feelings for you, but that the difference I had with my ex was that I chose to do it scared. To love in spite of knowing I may get hurt. And I don't regret it. I'm a person who loves. A thousand hearts' worth of love. Was I going to hold that back? Of course not. You were saying that we were on the way to become actual girlfriends, so I assumed that yours would rejoin mine in a few months. It wasn't going to make me "control my feelings". To me they were there, and yours were going to come anyway so no worries to be had.

You wanted to break up with me next Friday and then say, I don't want to make you wait. Oh yeah? Isn't that making me wait when you've seemingly made up your mind a long time ago? Don't fuck with my head, my dear party girl. You're smart enough to know what you were doing.

"I want alone time on Friday"

ah yeah. You're just delaying it because you're too much of a coward to end it. I told you, if you made up your mind, then do it. You wanted to do it in person but for God's sake, do it asap instead of making me wait. In a situation like that, leaving the other hanging like this is the most cruel thing you can do to them.

How was it up to me to "take my precautions" and not fall too hard or get attached when you were acting like a loving girlfriend to me and doing everything that a girlfriend does? How is someone exactly supposed to react not like the girlfriend of a loving girlfriend? What the fuck is wrong in your head exactly? If your actions are showing something, I won't believe your words as much. If you act like you love me but then say you don't, I'm gonna get confused but go by your actions because they typically shout while words whisper.

How is it even possible to look at me with this much love, to touch me with this much tenderness, to be so worried about my well-being, to hold my waist on the street, to give me a sweet kiss while holding said waist, and when I ask you about the last time you did that, you tell me you haven't done it since your ex, and not feel any attachment or love?

How is everything you did for me even possible to fake? Why? Why not simply be upfront and say, I'm not being serious?

Why not simply NOT act like this? Why cuddle me for hours on end? Why make love to me? Why? What's exactly your point?

You were "patient" with me. Because of my anxiety. I was doing my best and it was still not enough. Oh, I should have known when you told me I needed to meet your expectations. My standards supposedly are too high, but neither I, nor my stepmom, nor my therapist think they're that high. Yours on the other hand. How do you expect someone to be "healed" before entering a relationship? How is that remotely possible? We are never healed. Never fully. A relationship where nobody is ever triggered is either shallow or simply nonexistent.

You're five years into therapy and you have "done the work". But let me tell you, you're a work in progress. You're not "done with the work". And it's not about how long you've been. It's about the efforts.

"You need to get out of your comfort zone!"

Pardon me, but how many times have I done this actually? To you it felt "normal" and you barely acknowledged my achievements. Besides, how about YOU do it as well? It's all fine and dandy to pin all the blame on me. You're right in your goddamn comfort zone and you don't care to get out of it. No, you'd rather brainrot and get drunk, and smoke weed and get horny and flick your bean to porn.

"It's not fun to be around you when you're in this state!"

But it's not fun either when you're in a mood for whatever reason, when you're on your period, tired from work or whatever I don't know about, and yet I still did it. I was there for you. I was happy to be. It was coming from my heart.

You see, honey, relationships aren't about fun. The genuine ones at least. They have the good, the bad, the ugly in them. The impossibly beautiful. The pain. The compromises and sacrifices. But that's what makes it worth it. You give a little of yourself. You adapt yourself to the person in front ot you. "I don't want you to change yourself for me", but my passion, my anxiety, all the things that made me "me" were so impossible to deal with for you, you had to be "patient" rather than straight up ending it. And it was the thing that broke the relationship apparently. I did nothing wrong and yet I was the reason why it broke, make up your mind.

"The thing I really like about you is how emotionally intelligent you are, because that's a very rare thing to find in someone..."


Ironically that's this same emotional intelligence you could not handle. Be careful what you wish for.

"You're so pretty, I chose you..."

You chose me until it became inconvenient for you to deal with what came with me.

You're seven years older than me and you can't even hold a decent relationship, how are you ever going to be happy in one? And don't tell me you are an independent woman and whatnot. Don't serve me this bullshit. You're doing your 'triage' and whatever which makes me think you're on the search for the one, but the one is made, not found.

Love is a choice. I love you. I made that choice every day, and I'd choose you all over again if you choose to come back.

But not twice. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. You better not fuck it up.

I can't wrap my head around all of this. It's an inextricable mess of a lot of shit that is projection, inability to take responsibility for what you're doing, and your own trauma getting mixed in all of this. I don't get how you can be so loving and yet not love me. How it's "my fault" somehow for how things went down.

I told you a lot of things. Cried several times while doing so because of how painful it was. I hope you think HARD on them. But a part of me thinks that I shouldn't expect you to. Because at the end of the day, it's easier not to think about it. It's easier to watch TikTok, reinstall Tinder if you hadn't uninstalled it like I did, scroll Instagram, get high, get drunk, and do it all over again with another girl.

Your relationships after your 3 year ex lasted 1 week, 2 weeks, 1 month, and me, 2 months. You broke all of them off. One of them was controlling, I get it. The others were nothing serious.

You're 5 years into therapy. You're still unable to have proper relationships as I can see.

At least I was brave and I told you everything, even that I love you. After all, if we're breaking it off, might as well say it, otherwise it will kill me from being left unsaid. I had my chance and took it.

I regret nothing.

I think you just want your cake and to eat it too.But I don't want to live anymore. I want an elephant's dose of Jack Daniel's, thirty pills of Benadryl, an isolated beach, and a notebook to write out a whole damn essay on my death. Hiding my IDs and phone as to delay identification, though I'm fairly recognizable from the unique tattoos I got. Drawn by me for two of them. Last night I wished my heart would stop in my sleep. It didn't, obviously. I wish it did. I don't want to live anymore. I don't have much holding me back if at all: I knew love from a woman. This was the only thing keeping me alive, that sense that I wouldn't die in peace until I knew it. Now that I know what it's like...

Nobody cares. Nobody loves Aka. Aka is just something pretty to look at, to fuck eventually, and to discard when her not-so-big needs (therapist's words!) are becoming too inconvenient. You tell me to love myself. The most loving act I can do to myself is self-destruction. To put an end to my misery.
If I can even get to it and override my survival instincts.

I think I'll have another cigarette. My lungs will be destroyed soon enough. Unable to breathe in life. Not like I really have a drive to live, anyway. Plus I don't know what Camels taste like, I have never tried them but I got my first pack of them...