To the ones I’ve loved before (P.2)

I hate this, I miss you so much.” The text received at four in the morning today didn’t surprise me as much as it probably should have. I answered, “What do you hate?” I knew full well this was going to be another upsetting, self-deprecating conversation with this person I used to call my friend at the least, and the person I loved at the most.

We met online, through a NSFW blog I used to run (and recently started again). I started this blog for selfish reasons such as compliment fishing and making people tell me the filthy things they thought about me but then this person appeared asking for my name, and my favorite color, and my birthday. This was a person who lived far far away, and sent me pictures of his cat and sweet messages about my personality and not my tits (but also messages about them) to try and win my trust. Eventually he did. Eventually he learned my name and, roughly, where I lived and all of my favorites and desires and kinks and everything important.

We talked constantly. We talked on the phone, we texted, we Skyped, we were in constant contact for the better part of my sophomore year of school and nobody knew.

In no way was I ready to admit my feelings for him. He was nothing to me, a passing ship, a friend I was occasionally naked on camera for and it remained that way for nearly a year. He was madly in love with me, or so he said over and over and over again. He begged me to love him back, he begged for my love and my affection and my kisses and touches. He said all the right things. And I never gave in.

Until I did. I was at my roommate’s house for a weekend in February and complaining to her about this boy who I loved but could never tell and she just told me to do it. “Seriously Katie just do it like honestly I’m tired of you talking about this.”

She was kidding kind of but only kind of. So I did. He was badgering me to just admit that I loved him and was crazy about him and wanted him just as badly as he wanted me so I did.

And then he was gone.

No contact for months and months and months.

Over the years he attempted to make amends for this. He tried to make up for leaving me completely in the dust, thinking he had died or something.

 

Writing this is terrible. I remember how alone I felt without him and this is coming out fragmented and in all run on sentences and depressed ramblings and I don’t know how else to get this out. It’s now been nearly 5 years since he left me like that and I’ve never really forgotten about it. His texts are random and still unsurprising and just as shattering as they always were. Every boy I’ve been with since knowing him have fallen victim to my insecurities because of him. My last serious boyfriend would read my texts after finding out about this guy because he was so angry I was talking to someone else.

I feel nothing for him anymore, not a single thing. Not even any warm friendship feelings (hear that babe, nothing). I pick up the necklace he had custom made for me (which is beautiful) and the dress he sent to me (which fits perfectly somehow) and think of nothing but the leaving. All I can think is all the leaving he always did. All I can think is all the showing up he demanded from me, all while never ever showing up for me.

I need someone who will be there, unfailingly, unfalteringly, constantly. I need someone to fucking show up for me and never leave. I have that. I finally have that and she’s incredible and wonderful to me and for me and deserves so much more than me.

He doesn’t deserve to demand anything else of me anymore, or to tell me he misses me at four in the morning. I don’t want to fucking hear it.

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