This was written in 2013

May 2013: The story of what I thought I knew

I thought i knew what love was when I was 15 years old. I met a very nice Brazilian boy named Gabe. He hugged me in front of all my friends. I was in pure shock and then he moved back to Brazil. I have never had a real boyfriend and I had never felt the need to have one until this past July (2012). I felt so lonely and for some reason I thought I needed to fill a void. Don’t get me wrong I have plenty of good friends, enough love from my grandmother, Betty, and some love for myself, but this isn’t what I want or need. I met a boy the summer of 2011 (August), through my friend L, his name is Ian. I didn’t talk to him until he started following me on Twitter, he was tweeting to me and I was tweeting to him… About everything. i thought it was strange and I ignored it for the most part in order to lesson awkwardness. Let me also mention that my friend Laura, who introduced us, was in love with him and he had a girlfriend when we first started talking. Nothing sexual ever happened, he asked for my phone number, and we text all day… non-stop. It became romantic in the fall of 2012, and we eventually went on to sext. I felt very emotional and I felt as if I might have been getting attached. He was living in California, and I was in Massachusetts. He asked me if he could come visit, I said yes. Then I changed my mind, I SAID NO. I said no to this man who I thought I loved. I felt so emotionally attached to this man. I lied to him, I told him my Grandmother was coming over, she did, but she left quickly. Essentially, I changed the path of my life because I was scared, and depressed, and I WAS FAT. I was nervous that he was going to think I was ugly, and that he wouldn’t want to be near me because I was ugly, and gross. I still think that, every day. He didn’t talk to me for a month, and he was deployed to Japan for 2 years. We started talking again in January. I was happy to have been given a second chance. I wanted to make it clear I MADE A MISTAKE. We began face-timing, almost daily, we were talking EVERY NIGHT before bed. It became intimate again. He then went to the Philippines and we spent 6 hours face-timing and saying goodbye to each other. I realize, writing this, that he was playing me. He didn’t love me, I honestly didn’t love him. I was using him, I was using him to feel intimate while I fucked other guys.

When he came back from the Philippines, we didn’t talk as much. He was detached, he started talking to another girl, then another girl, then another. I was at home, and I was wrecked from the situation. He promised to buy me earring, a shirt, and he promised to write me a letter. We were young, we were children. It is over now, but it was fucking hell. But now I’m better, I’m cool, I’m more mature, and I’m happier.

****This was all written in 2013, about 2012-2013. I was in a bad place, I’m not there anymore.


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