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I know why I’m hurting…but I won’t do anything to stop it (Part 2)

I’m gay. Who knew that two words, six letters could mean so much. Who knew that these words could carry such impact. Do you know the severity of this simple statement? For me, it means freedom, a liberation that I’ve sought for years. The lightness of being myself.  For me, it means hate and discrinmination, it means fear. These words carry with it the pain and heartache of all those who are different, those who were afraid to be honest to themselves and to others because of the consequences. They give voice to those who are silent, not because they want to be, but because they feel like if they vocalize their truth, because if they give in to the expression of self, they will be persecuted and they will be abandoned by those who they love most.

See, when you hide for so long, you get accustomed to it. The thought of finally exposing who you are, it’s frightening. You’re not used to being so vulnerable, your heart and flesh now become open to scrutiny and now it’s easier for people to hurt you with their words, their abandonment, their coldness. But at some point, the weight becomes too much to carry. Your back and shoulders start to give out and your heart becomes heavy with pain. You’re tired and you wonder how many tears you have left to cry. You wonder how many more nights you can spend drowning in your own thoughts. You wonder where you can find the strength to keep yourself from going over the edge of madness. At some point something’s got to give. For some, that means ending it all and putting a permanent halt on the future. A gun, a cliff, a rope, a bottle of pills. There is so much choice for the lonely soul. I have never thought of harming myself or taking my life, so I am one of the lucky ones. Yes, despite all of the crippling loneliness I’ve felt, despite the burning desire to be wrapped up in the warmth of someone that I could call my own while everyone around me is parading with their partners hand in hand, despite crying endless tears in spite of myself and feeling pathetic, despite having to endure the hateful words of loved ones that unknowingly cut me into pieces with their ignorance and bigotry, despite feeling helpless and hopeless, I am still one of the lucky ones. Because despite all of that darkness, there was still light. 

I know why I’m hurting…but I won’t do anything to stop it (Part 1)

I am constantly wishing for the past, but the past me wished for the future. And the future me will echo similar sentiments. That’s the song that we all sing isn’t it? Now is never enough, the past is what we yearn for, the future if what we strive towards. Onward into the unknown, into something we hope is better than this. And it continues.

Verbal repetitions and reverberations rattle inside my skull and bring me to the edge of madness. I have to remind myself to remain composed. I have to continue thinking with logic and common sense, yet I continue living in fear when I, and I alone, hold the power to put a stop to my agony. Where’s the logic in that?  

____

Saturday night, a time often reserved for hedonistic pleasures and eager partygoing. Indeed, I am a regular participant in these festivities, but not tonight. Tonight, I let the quiet stillness strike me down and help me find the right words to say.

I could have gone out and drank until I succumbed to the haziness and became numb enough to forget, if only for tonight. The few hours of freedom that tonight could have granted me would have been nice. Freedom from my thoughts, my feelings, the overwhelming urge to cry because I have no other way to physically express what’s deep down inside of me. Freedom from myself.

I imagine completely giving myself to the loud music thumping against the walls of a club, my heart beating fast, quickly pumping blood through my veins, dancing as if no one was watching. Tonight, tonight, tonight. I’ve had many of those, and thank goodness for that. 

It’s on those nights that I can keep the pain and heartache at bay, replacing it with friendship, family and laughter, but it never lasts long. Eventually I just become tired again, defeated, deflated. The emptiness creeps on me, tirelessly and surely. But I am powerless to stop it so instead I welcome it warmly and with open arms, just as I would an old friend.  

It’s moments like these, when I am completely alone in my house, sitting on my couch, crouching in front of my laptop that I feel the weight of it all. It’s only me and the silence and nothing is stopping me from thinking. Too much thinking, in fact.

Many will write or speak words of hopelessness and pain, but won’t know why they feel the way that they do. They have everything but feel nothing. Or perhaps they feel something is missing in their hearts, a hope for something more even with their nice house, fancy car, loving spouse, good friends and so on and so forth. But I know what’s wrong. I know the reason that I cry myself to sleep, or in the shower, or after a night out with friends when only an hour before I was throwing my head back, the walls reverberating with laughter. I know what is putting this constant weight on my chest.

I wonder to myself, How much longer can I hold onto this fear? How long will I wait for my life to start? How many more tears will I have to cry before I run out? When will I take control of my own life and allow myself to be truly happy? When will I finally find the courage to say, “Hey World, I’m gay, and there’s nothing wrong with that”?

It won’t matter if you spend your whole life trying to get to know somebody. It’ll be a fruitless endeavor. One way or another, they’ll find a way to shock you and turn your world upside down. You won’t see it coming, but they’ll sneak up on you and you’ll realise that this person whom you love, someone who claimed to have cared about you, will have fucked you over in ways you could not have fathomed. It could be your best friend. Your lover. Your own father. It doesn’t matter. Pick someone that means something to you and expect them to hurt you.

A heaviness in my heart, a constant weight pushing down on me, suffocating me

revolve:

fragileminded:

hiddlestonhug:

laylacon:

tropical-cave:

tropical-cave:

brianmchale:

welcometomylifeex3:

raquelsh0lding0ntillmay:

foundmywaywheniwaslost:

alittledoseofsunshine:

sort-of-un-balanced:

I posted this three times tonight and had three people tell me that I helped save their life. Thank you to those people who have decided to struggle through to let us enjoy the gift of one more day of their prescence gracing us all. I hope that you all reblog this, to save another few. Because we all dserve another chance and hope in life. I went to the hospital 6 times before I decided to keep my life but I hope none of you suffer that much. And I hope you all can make that scary, seemingly painful, blind, hoping, wonderful step to live.
I want to help you in any way I can. ANYTHING. I mean it. If I had had someone stay with me and text me or talk to me all night, just one time, it would have changed my life. I know how hard those nights can be.
<3,
Love,
Emily

^I love this girl more than words can express.  

foundmywaywheniwaslost: I am always here if anyone ever needs to talk/vent. You have a purpose, Please Stay Alive. <3

Not just for tonight but for the rest of your life. You have so much to look forward to in the future that if you choose to kill yourself, it will be the biggest mistake of your life. You’re going to miss out on people you’ll never be able to meet, kids you’ll never have, a partner to love or partys to go to. There’s just too much that you’ll miss out on. You deserve and have the right to be here as much as the person next to you does. You’re just a drop in the ocean. You were meant to be here and you have a purpose. Don’t ever forget that. And if you feel like you don’t, just believe in yourself because you do. If you ever feel worthless or like shit, know that I love you and those dicks that tell you shit are jealous that you’re who you are because there’s something about you that they wish they could have. Please stay strong and never give up because things DO GET BETTER.

3rd time I reblog this xx

Keep your self awake, I hope your here to stay. This day is not yet over, let me be your four leaf clover.

Reblogged it and queued it so it’ll post tomorrow too. And the next day and the next so I hope I can save someone. We all love you.

someone messaged me this morning saying it helped and thanked me, so im reblogging this again, and queuing it. stay strong guys. 

I reblog this whenever I see it. If you don’t reblog it, unfollow me right now. If you don’t care enough to put this simple picture on your blog, I’m judging you.

The very first time that I reblogged this, I had someone message me the next day saying that because of me, they didn’t kill themself. From then on whenever I see anything like this on Tumblr it’s an instant reblog for me. After receiving that message it just changed something in me. Whenever anyone I see on my dash is having thoughts of self-harm or even suicide, I automatically go to their page and offer them even just an ear to listen. Nearly all of them I receive messages back from saying that they are grateful, and they end up sharing their story with me, and in return I give them advice as best I can. Several of them have said that their lives have gotten much better because they opened up and sought out help.
Out of those people, I’d say at least 5  have even gone so far as to say that they didn’t kill themself because of me. That is, I kid you not, the best feeling in the world.

I needed this reminder. 

Thank you..

revolve:

fragileminded:

hiddlestonhug:

laylacon:

tropical-cave:

tropical-cave:

brianmchale:

welcometomylifeex3:

raquelsh0lding0ntillmay:

foundmywaywheniwaslost:

alittledoseofsunshine:

sort-of-un-balanced:

I posted this three times tonight and had three people tell me that I helped save their life. Thank you to those people who have decided to struggle through to let us enjoy the gift of one more day of their prescence gracing us all. I hope that you all reblog this, to save another few. Because we all dserve another chance and hope in life. I went to the hospital 6 times before I decided to keep my life but I hope none of you suffer that much. And I hope you all can make that scary, seemingly painful, blind, hoping, wonderful step to live.

I want to help you in any way I can. ANYTHING. I mean it. If I had had someone stay with me and text me or talk to me all night, just one time, it would have changed my life. I know how hard those nights can be.

<3,

Love,

Emily

^I love this girl more than words can express.  

foundmywaywheniwaslost: I am always here if anyone ever needs to talk/vent. You have a purpose, Please Stay Alive. <3

Not just for tonight but for the rest of your life. You have so much to look forward to in the future that if you choose to kill yourself, it will be the biggest mistake of your life. You’re going to miss out on people you’ll never be able to meet, kids you’ll never have, a partner to love or partys to go to. There’s just too much that you’ll miss out on. You deserve and have the right to be here as much as the person next to you does. You’re just a drop in the ocean. You were meant to be here and you have a purpose. Don’t ever forget that. And if you feel like you don’t, just believe in yourself because you do. If you ever feel worthless or like shit, know that I love you and those dicks that tell you shit are jealous that you’re who you are because there’s something about you that they wish they could have. Please stay strong and never give up because things DO GET BETTER.

3rd time I reblog this xx

Keep your self awake, I hope your here to stay. This day is not yet over, let me be your four leaf clover.

Reblogged it and queued it so it’ll post tomorrow too. And the next day and the next so I hope I can save someone. We all love you.

someone messaged me this morning saying it helped and thanked me, so im reblogging this again, and queuing it. stay strong guys. 

I reblog this whenever I see it. If you don’t reblog it, unfollow me right now. If you don’t care enough to put this simple picture on your blog, I’m judging you.

The very first time that I reblogged this, I had someone message me the next day saying that because of me, they didn’t kill themself. From then on whenever I see anything like this on Tumblr it’s an instant reblog for me. After receiving that message it just changed something in me. Whenever anyone I see on my dash is having thoughts of self-harm or even suicide, I automatically go to their page and offer them even just an ear to listen. Nearly all of them I receive messages back from saying that they are grateful, and they end up sharing their story with me, and in return I give them advice as best I can. Several of them have said that their lives have gotten much better because they opened up and sought out help.

Out of those people, I’d say at least 5  have even gone so far as to say that they didn’t kill themself because of me. That is, I kid you not, the best feeling in the world.

I needed this reminder. 

Thank you..

(via makemestfu)

I wonder all the time whether you truly loved us or not. Is this what you wanted? Was you dying wish to leave us with no money and make us suffer? Are you happy now? Do you feel good know that I hate you? I don’t know what to think anymore. I keep going back and forth between the good memories I have of you and all the the pain and heartache you caused. What kind of man are you? What have you done? You’re a pathetic excuse for a father, but somehow I don’t believe that that’s entirely true. You have done so much for us. You were always there. But nothing is ever that simple is it? I guess I never really knew you at all. I wish I could ask you all these questions and I wish I could get an answer. I hope that you will appear in my dreams and I can ask you why you’ve done what you’ve done. I want to see if you have any shame, if you ever cared. I am so angry at you I want to scream. One day I’m afraid I’ll snap and do something stupid.

How dare you do this to us? Of all the things you could have left us with in your passing, of all the fucking things, you left us with this pile of shit. How could you? I can’t believe it. I never would have thought that this would happen. But if I’ve learned anything in my 23 years of life, you never know what can happen. People will surprise you. And you certainly did. I try to hold on to the faith that there could be an explanation for all this and that you were in fact innocent, but that is nearly impossible to believe. Can you hear my thoughts? Can you read everything that I write? I really hope you know how I feel. I need to believe that you know what I think. I feel like there is no one who I can really release all my feelings to. Not mom, because let’s face it, for me having a conversation with her is fucking hard to do sometimes. I either get angry or really irritated with her. Not sister because she’s not the best at listening. She doesn’t really like talking about this, she tends to push it away a lot, which fucking annoys me. Not anyone because it’s actually hard for me to fully express how I feel. Sometimes the words don’t come out because I don’t know how to start and because there’s so much to say.

So wherever you are, I wonder if you are happy that we are suffering. Stressed, angry, sad, confused, helpless. You did this. Thank you, thank you for being someone who was supposed to be our protector but turned out to be the opposite. This is the legacy you left. If all of this is true, then I am ashamed to be your daughter. The piece of my heart you cut out, it’s not yours, understand that. You may have caused this pain, but if you really intended for all this, then I am no longer a part of you. In life and in death. You can rest with that heartless, fucked up family of yours.

I often feel frustrated, like no one really understands the full depth of who I am. I don’t mean it to sound whiny and self-important, it is mainly my fault. I’m scared to express a lot of what I feel and my thoughts, which might come as a surprise. I’m outgoing and love to meet new people. I love having conversations that feed my curiosity about people and their experiences in life. But sometimes I still feel like that painfully shy little girl in kindergarten who was so afraid of people that she wouldn’t speak a word in class. Although I like to talk now, there are just some things I can’t bring myself to say. It’s ironic isn’t it?

There is one person I feel that understands me in a way that no one else can. We’re so different yet the same and we understand each other on a different level. It’s hard to explain. I guess you can only understand if you have this kind of relationship yourself. Anyway, the problem with this particular person is that I think I may be in love with her (I still can’t figure out if it’s love or something close to it, I don’t think love is a word you throw around lightly). And I’m also a her. And therein lies one of my biggest problems. My biggest secret is that I’m not straight, although there are people who already know without me having to say anything. I won’t elaborate because I’ve done that so many fucking times on this blog that even I’m starting to get sick of writing about it, I just can’t stop. If I could just bring myself to tell her that I’m gay the I feel like I could tell her practically anything (aside from the fact that I have feelings for her), and she would be my ‘person’. But I can’t, not because she’s homophobic, but because it will be that much harder for her to deny how I feel. I’m quite sure she knows but she just pushes it away because it’s a hard pill to swallow. Although part of me thinks that she has some feelings for me too.

Although no one has even come close to her, there is this one other person that I shared a connection that was on a different level than anyone else, at the time, I felt like he understood me in a way that no one else could. We talked a lot over MSN (oh the good old days) and obviously in person, but when you chat with someone online sometimes you say things that you don’t have the courage to say face to face. We were very good friends. Until he started having feelings for me. I guess I broke his heart. I should have had more compassion, I didn’t understand why he was acting distant and why he couldn’t just get over it. I has selfish thoughts like, yeah I understand that he likes me and it’s hard to be friends, but what about me? I’m losing a friend. He changed, and I know it wasnt all because of me, but i guess it had something to do with it. But now I understood how he felt and how much it hurts. At the time I never knew what it felt to want someone so much it hurt, to have them consume your thoughts to the point of insanity. Up until a year ago I never found someone that made me feel like that, until I met the girl. He and I don’t talk much at all anymore, every few months. Most days he never even crosses my mind, but now and then he does and I think how much of a shame it was to let our friendship die. I never thought it would, I honestly thought it would go on forever. But I was naive.

I don’t even know what to call this

There are so many ways you could die. I fantasize about killing you from time to time, but tonight, the urge to hurt you, that seething hatred is stronger than ever.

In my head I see a knife in my hand and my heart beats faster and faster, pumping adrenaline through my veins. Slowly, I walk towards you, my strides although short are marked with purpose. My steely glare can cut into you almost the way the knife in my hand could. My jaw muscles are tense as I grind my teeth. At the last moment, I feel like I’m about to explode and lose all compsure. So I run towards you and open my mouth wide to let out a scream, my face contorted in a way that it never has before. I wrap my arm from behind you and a slit your throat. Blood squirts out from your neck like a fountain. The life spills out of you in all its ruby glory, dripping down your neck, staining your expensive clothes. You fall to your knees and onto your back. You try to stop the blood with you hand. SIlly little man, covering the wound with your hand won’t make the bleeding stop. Your life is literally slipping through your fingers. And I love it. I love seeing that terrified look on your face. I love that shock in your eyes. I love seeing your tears. The pain you feel makes me feel powerful. We both have a look of utter madness etched upon our faces. Before this I was a good person, I had compassion. I had the capacity to love and love deeply. I laughed a lot. But in mere seconds, my humanity is thrown to the wind, and at my own hands. And I am left but a mere shell of my former self.

I dream of ripping you limb from limb. I would love to have my hands around your throat and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until you’re as still as you are when you sleep. I would take pleasure in seeing you trip and fall down the stairs or over the edge of a tall building, your inside painting the sidewalk. It would be abstract art. An installation piece. A commentary on the fragility of life and the ugliness of death and humanity. Or it would just be my sick pleasure to see you obliterated. I would feel proud that I rid the earth of scum like you. How dare you call yourself a man. You’re disgusting excuse for a human being. You’re a lying, cheating, piece of shit. You’re a dirty little cunt.

But you did this to yourself. You inflicted this pain upon me and the people I cared about so I took your life. I could not believe how cold you could be. Where was your compassion? Where was your humanity when you decided that you wanted to take away our ability to support ourselves? How greedy can you be? Did you want to see us beg for money on the street? Would that make you happy? You kicked dirt in our fresh wounds. Wasn’t our emotional heartbreak enough? We lost somebody so dear to us yet you thought it was OK to try and rob us? How could you do this to us, we are blood. But I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you. We were never close, but at least I had respect for you. At least I could say that I loved you. I guess it’s that kind of love that is mandatory simply because we are family. In a heartbeat, I decided that I don’t love you once I found out what you did. I actually hate you. I am seething. So was that really love at all? To even think of the word love while thinking of you makes my skin crawl. I wonder how you can sleep at night. How do you look at yourself in the mirror and not want to take your own life. How can you look at your wife and kids with loving eyes when there is such darkness underneath?

***

These are my darkest thoughts. But they are not reality. Perhaps you think my heart is dark and rotten. Everyone has a limit. There is darkness in all of us. The ways in which they show themselves are different. And the degree and depth of that darkness varies. Perhaps you think I need therapy. Well this is my therapy, writing. Screaming and punching would also relieve some of the pain I’m in but people in the house would ask me what the hell is wrong with me and that’s a conversation I don’t want to have. These actions I speak of aren’t real but this man, it’s hard for me to even call him that, his actions were real. I want to know why he’s done what he has. I need to know. If I don’t like what he has to say, I might just have to put a knife to his neck.

Dreams and what not

Dear You,

I like that you dream of me. It makes me feel good knowing that I’m in your thoughts, like I’m that special person in your life. The last one you told me about was interesting. There was a scary tornado ripping through the city. I asked if I survived and you said I did. Everyone died except you and I because we took to safety in an underground metal bunker of some sort. I wonder if you dream of me in a different light, you know, the kind that crosses the line of friendship into something more. I secretly hope that you do but you’re just too scared to bring that up in conversation. 

It’s funny, I think about you all the time yet I hardly dream of you. Thoughts of you, our conversations, the way I feel when you hug me or hold my hand in yours, your bizarre yet lovable quirks, everything, saturates my brain. You occupy so much room in my head that you make it difficult for other things to remain there. Yet, my dreams consist of strange, twisted scenarios and blurred images that hardly make any sense where unrecognizeable faces play the characters in my dreams. Maybe my inability to dream of whatever I spend all day thinking about is a defect in the way my brain works. I’d like to dream of you because I don’t get to see your face anymore as we’re an ocean apart. We have lovely conversations about nothing, everything and anything every day online, but of course it’s not the same as being with you in the flesh. That’s when the intoxicating scent of your perfume fills my nose, bringing me to the edge of madness before I regain control and quickly snap myself back into sanity.

I finished the book I was reading today. At the heart and soul of the novel is the strange, twisted, dark yet loving and playful friendship between the two main characters, one of whom is presumed dead and is now communicating to the other through a series of letters. You spend the whole book wondering whether or not they were in love with each other. It made me think of our friendship. No, it’s not as dramatic and dark. And thankfully, neither of us are dead (knock on wood). Actually there are a lot of differences between the friendship in the book and ours, but everything reminds me of you. I guess I find ways to connect everyday things or extraordinary things or any fucking thing for that matter to you because I consider you my special person and I miss you terribly. Anyway, I digress. Back to the friendship thing. Wouldn’t you agree that our relationship is kind of strange and complicated (but beautiful nonetheless)? There’s this weird tension, like you know how I feel about you and you kind of sort of maybe feel something too but we’re both too afraid to address the gigantic elephant stomping around in the room making a quiet mess of things. People always made jokes that we were dating or commented on our friendship. It didn’t take long for people who didn’t even know us to see how close we were. If I hung out with our mutual friends without you, they would ask me where you were. I could see in their eyes that they knew how I felt about you.

Anyway I don’t know what the point of all this is, I guess all these letters and confessions only serve to temporarily provide cathartic relief from this burden, the weight of which grows heavier by the day. One day I’m going to have to tell the real world who I really am and how I really feel, there is no other real solution to this. I know that in the end, that is the only thing that will grant me true freedom, freeing me of the chains that fear has constricted me with. Until then, I’ll wait expectantly for your name to pop up on my phone so I can have a day-long conversation with you about nothing in particular.

Love,

Me

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.

Neil GaimanThe Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones

Catch-22

Dear You,

The simplest moments were the ones I cherished the most. Sitting on the couch with you watching TV shows. With only inches between us I felt close to you, yet so far away. Sitting at that restaurant by the beach, not saying a word, just looking out at the ocean while the breeze tussled our hair and brushed our skin. Those times where you would take my hand and keep it in yours, our fingers entangled. That’s only when you’ve had a bit too drink, but you did it more than once. I may have had too much to drink too, but the warm feeling of closing off distance between us is utterly clear to me. All those conversations we had over a drink. We can talk about anything, even now when we’re an ocean apart. From the pain and heartache we’ve faced in the past to the totally ridiculous and jokes that would raise eyebrows but would be entirely clear to us. 

We’ve had our fair share of intense moments. We disagree on many things. Sometimes I don’t understand you and sometimes you don’t understand me. I don’t hesistate to let you know when you’re fucking irritating me; I’m not afraid to call you out on your bullshit. And you do the same for me. Though, we’ve never gotten into a screaming match where we yell things at each other that we didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. I admit that sometimes I do feel like doing that. Anger and resentment rear their ugly heads out from hiding whenever I think about how deeply you’ve hurt me. You didn’t mean to though, it’s not your fault that you don’t feel the same way about me as I feel about you. The tears, oh those goddamn tears. When I think about all the tears shed during the past year, I feel exhausted. I can’t tell you how many tears I’ve cried over you. You’ve witnessed me a few times, you even saw me at my worst that one night where I lost total control of my emotions (an embarassing episode brought on by the pain of being in love with you of course), but you still don’t understand the depth of the hurt. I’ve wiped a few tears from your cheeks as well. I’ve been your shoulder to cry on. I’ve held you when you broke down. I won’t ever forget those times. You were crying over someone else. I hate to see you sad because I care about you, but I also hate to see you sad for more selfish reasons. What hurts me so much and makes me so resentful towards you is that you were hurting so badly because of your feelings for someone other than me. You see how fucked up that is? There I am with my stupid feelings for you, consoling you because of your stupid feelings for him. Can you see how that would frustrate me? I still feel a stab to my heart every time I think of you with someone else. What’s worse is that I’m almost 100% sure you know how I feel about you. You’re just too afraid to face them and admit it to yourself. It’s terrifying, I know. And you know what? Although you could probably never be with a girl, I think you have some feelings for me too, however complicated or confusing they are. If I was a guy, what would you do then?     

I want to tell you that I’m gay, I just don’t know how. I’m especially scared to tell you because I love you and because you probably know it too. If I told you, then it’d be that much harder for you to deny the truth. That’s scary territory to tread on because we’re such close friends. Sometimes you make me so angry, but mostly, I can’t stop thinking about you. In fact, you’re the last thing I think about at night and the first thing I think about when I wake up.

I feel like my relationship with you is full of contradictions. You say you’re 100% straight, yet you’ve mentioned more than once that you have/would considering being with a woman just to see what it was like. You even told me that you wish I was a guy and you asked me what I would do if you were a guy (you assumed I was straight). I just brushed it off because it scared me. When we first went out together along with a few of our friends, you were very touchy, it kind of freaked me out since a girl has never come on to me before. At that point we barely knew each other and I wasn’t really into you, but I was curious. I swear, from the way you were acting and the things you were saying, if I was more forward with you, something would have happened that night. Then morning came and you came to your senses. I guess you freaked yourself out and backed off. We’re so close and comfortable with each other, but there is this weird tension between us. I don’t know how to explain it, but there are moments when we would just look at each other, without saying a word and smile. I’m usually the one to look away, eye contact always made me uncomfortable. It’s like the other person can see into the depths of your soul. Sometimes you would let your hand linger on my arm or hand a moment longer than necessary and then pull away. If I initiate affection towards you, you recoil. I don’t get you…but at the same time I do. I know you.

I know that in the future you will find a boyfriend, that will kill me, but it’s a reality I will have to face. I have to get over my own fear of coming out to the rest of my friends and my family. That’s a whole other struggle on its own, one that will really test my strength and the strength of my relationships. I’m terrified, I really am. I feel like my world will be flipped upside down, shaken to its core. The weird thing is, if I told you, I think you’d be able to help me, you’d be there for me and support me. Another Catch-22. 

Love,

Me