To whom it may concern,
I
am not in the best shape of my life right now.
As you are probably aware, one month ago Anastasia returned home from
France, and broke up with me. This less
than happy homecoming left me apoplectically bawling my mind out half way up a
mountain. I was crushed. I hadn't seen it coming. Just the opposite; I had expected her to want
see me as much as I had wanted to see her.
I think it's understandable that I made this mistake, though; the only
contact I had had with her for two weeks was a few brief Facebook messages and
the letters she had left behind for me.
These letters were written before she left, and were filled up with
music I should listen to, topics to write back about, pictures to draw, and
reminders that she loved me. By my best
guess, a few days into the trip the letters started lying to me. There's one thing that keeps sticking in my
mind, something the she said to me before we kissed for the last time: "Absence makes the heart grow
stronger." Seems like bullshit,
now.
I
kept talking to her, though, trying to find out what happened, and what I've determined
is this: There is no one, thing I did
wrong (or so she says). Being away from
me for so long just made her realize that she'd rather be on her own. All physical attraction to me died in France,
as well. There is no chance of our
getting back together. And now I'm faced
with a conundrum: What do I, a person
battling with self-hatred, do with the knowledge that the only person who ever
seemed to really loved me doesn't find me worth it anymore? And I suppose that's where you all come in.
You
see, I need help. And looking for that
help, I've done what I've done in the past: gone to Anastasia. That's not working anymore. I sense that she's getting tired of it, and
she's told me to go open up to other people.
It's good advice, and I would have done it sooner, if not for the sad
fact that I am terrified of all of you. I
am gripped by an absolute paranoia that if I say one thing to hint at my
perilous mental state, you'll all pack up and leave me alone in my mire. I'm really hoping that that's not the case
here. Assuming that some of you are
intending to stay, you should probably know how I'm feeling if you're going to
help.
I
was fucking miserable at first, but I've slowly been able to compartmentalize
my feelings, like I did back when I was that socially ostracized, loner kid who
was acknowledged only to be picked on (maybe the root of the self-hatred?). Now, I only break down when I think too intensely
about all that I've lost. I love her
more than I love myself. She says this
is part of the reason that she broke up with me, that I can't go on like that,
but it's clearly not the whole reason, or even the biggest part of it. I don't understand how time away from me could
make her realize that she doesn't like me as much as she thought she did. This didn't happen to anyone else. Was I smothering her? I don't understand... For the sake of absolute disclosure, I should
probably discuss suicide, as well. I've
thought about it, but never actually had the desire to do it. There are plenty of things stopping me:
atheism, genetics, knowing that my great work has not even been conceived yet,
Anastasia's pleading with me not to hurt myself on top of that mountain. But the thought's always been there, hovering
in the background, that I could do
it.
And
that's the story, in short. Some of this
I've never even told her, but now you all know. I don't know what I want you to do, and I don't
know what I'm ready to do, but if you want to try, well, anything, you know how
to reach me.
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