Long story short, I met a guy on Instagram without any intent on a relationship forming, but one did. I loved him and he said he loved me. One year ago I was across the country with him having a great time.
- It was a fun trip
- I met a man I loved
- It was a lesson in maturity
- I got stuck in Toronto for over 11 hours because of weather
- I put all my effort in to it and he put in a quarter
- When it came time to visit me I sent money and he backed out
When we broke up my new “friends” forgot I even exist. The list for both goes on. Me being the depressed, pessimistic person I am, my brain goes to the negatives like these:
- I lost my virginity in a fucking hotel room with a guy I’d met in person like three days prior (over eight months online).
- I am not worthy of love from men around here.
- The ones that do like me are either fucking creepy, or so sweet that I don’t deserve them
- He only “loved” me because he hadn’t met me and only had to speak over the phone and text.
- I haven’t had sex in a year because I’m a fat ugly loser with no life.
I can look at these written, and see flaws, but that doesn’t stop it from feeling real. If I could just get over it I would, but I can’t. I still have a voicemail saved with his voice even though it’s a sad one. I still think about this shit obviously or I wouldn’t be writing about it. I sent him money to get his passport because he said he was fine with it, but when it showed up he didn’t actually want to come and don’t send it back like he said he would. I had to jump through hoops with the Post Office to get the money order cancelled and get a refund.
I don’t mean for this to sound like a pitty party. I’m just tired of this shit gong through my head. I don’t need people to tell me I’m great or that they like me. I don’t need friends to fix me. I need medication. I have an appointment on April 25th with a new psychiatrist. I’m not even nervous this time. I am just fucking done.