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Reader Beware
You're in for a scare~
Sit Back. Relax. Pull the Trigger
I haven't written in a journal for a long time. I was reading old messages and journal entries and figured out why I haven't written anything in forever. I let myself become enveloped. I let myself become consumed and confused. I've made so much physical progress, yet mentally, emotionally, I'm still the same. Not totally, due to some things happening as they did, but I've made almost no psychological changes. Because of things happening over the past couple weeks, I'm aware of this. I'm annoyed of this.

So let's just start over from the beginning. Exaggerated emotions will be left out. Heat of the moment commentary isn't necessary. I'm sure I'll still relay it, because really, who the ******** am I without acting like a bit of a drama queen? :P

I never really had too much of a chance to emotionally mature. And since I don't feel certain emotions, I act wrongly in a lot of situations. For the longest time, I never knew what Regret felt like. For the most part, I still don't. I just liken the word to certain situations that would have been better off never happening. I figured out what Guilt felt like years ago. Bothered me greatly. Remorse is something that still eludes me. Maybe when someone close to me leaves in a permanent way is when I'll figure it out.
When it came to expressing emotions, any feelings whatsoever, I didn't know how. Throughout High School, I just wanted to be left alone. Ignorant, immature bastards kept messing with me day in and day out. I was emotional, depressed, but I didn't want them to have more fuel to use to screw with me. So I turned everything inward. I put on a fake smile. I treated everything and everyone with apathy. And when I got hit with my first betrayal, it hurt in a way I didn't enjoy. I lashed out. Then the next betrayal was even more personal - someone that meant the world to me. Instead of viewing it logically, I became almost manic and wrecked everything. I caused more harm than necessary. Nevertheless, I still kept everything inward. I ended up graduating high school still unable to speak my emotions.

Over the summer of 2005, my grandmother I was living with for a few months berated my parents in my presence daily. "Beach Bums", "worthless," et cetera. I had a couple of outbursts. I yelled. The quiet kid of high school yelled. Yelled loud enough that people outside of the house could hear me. I hated those days. I hated those times. I don't like having to raise my voice, but since then I've found times necessary for it. Not hostile times, so much as they were, but times that a louder voice is good.
I spent time in college. I made a lot of mistakes. A lot of stupid things happened. Situations created and followed through that should've never been borne. I was there for a semester; 4 months of my life wasted on nothing in particular. But the biggest mistake I made during that time happened in September. I misread a situation. I took it out on the wrong person. I wasn't feeling well to begin with, and instead of acting proper, I chose the least mature, the least logical, option and ruined everything. I know so far it sounds like I'm just throwing a pity party, but I'm giving my side of everything that's happened so far.

December 2005, I dropped my "life" and moved in with Jerry. I'm sure he regrets ever letting that happen, even now. In some ways, I agree. Neither of us were ready for a relationship at that level. To be living with each other so soon. We'd never physically met each other. We'd never gone out on dates with one another, and to my knowledge, had never done so with anyone else. We were both incredibly inexperienced with relationships. I didn't know what I was doing. I don't know if he knew himself. I just didn't want to be away from him anymore. I didn't want to give up on us just because we're several states apart. I wanted to at least TRY. I just never knew what all that meant - what it meant to try to be with someone. I always thought it would be natural, that everything would fall right into place. My, was I wrong.
I approached the whole relationship idea wrongly. I did...pretty much nothing. I was unappreciative. I didn't put much feeling behind the "I love you too" statements. I never said, "I love you" first. I was scared. I chose to dive headfirst into the deep end and didn't know how to swim. I didn't think to ask for help. I didn't want to disappoint anyone around me. So I just slowly drowned, hoping that everyone would look away so I could do so without their stares and glares. I hated myself. I was letting down the one person that meant everything to me at the time. Someone that I was sharing my life with. I'm not saying that he was a perfect boyfriend; but I'm not going to defend myself either.

Relatively shortly after we got together, I ended up screwing up. Due to my own inability to treat him with the respect and appreciation he deserved, he mirrored the same feelings unto me. Childishly, I thought he just didn't care about me, so I searched for warmth from someone else. It was wrong. However, I could've kept up the charade I had going. "Being" with Jerry and gleaning affection from another. I chose against it; I hated the way I felt throughout the whole situation. I hated that Jerry was asleep, right next to me, while I was flirting and effectively sleeping with another. I left my laptop open. I knew what would happen. I knew full well everything that would happen upon making that choice. I could've chosen to erase everything and pretend that nothing ever happened. But I wanted him to catch me. I had been untrustworthy, unfaithful. I owed it to him to at least let him know. Was it the right way? No. But when you cheat on someone, it's never going to be a right way. Nothing about the whole situation screams "right way."

After a few months, we ended up patching things up and dating again. But I don't think we were really together out of desire. It almost felt like necessity or availability. Like, we were only together because there was no one else. And it isn't like I became better with my emotions. That didn't happen until his betrayal. When he went to Otakon. When he told me, several days before he left, to not stop loving him. When he told me to not forget about him. And then he comes back. And he forgot about me. It hurt. It hurt a lot. But I've gone over that rather extensively.
In December 2008, we ended up moving to Wichita, KS. In some ways, it was a good thing. However, we moved in with another couple. I've never been a very social guy. If I have a choice of going out to a club or sitting at home doing crossword puzzles, you can damn well be sure I'll pick the second option. Anyway, the two we moved in with never seemed to like me. I've surmised various reasons why, such as I was too antisocial or they wanted to be the only leeches on Jerry's money at the time and didn't like that I wanted him to be mindful of his savings, but whatever the reason(s) they hated me, they weren't worth the energy to be remembered more than a fleeting feeling of distaste. In March 2009, Jerry and I broke up a final time. It was a mutual understanding. We'd grown too far apart. I'd occupied myself with game after game. It wasn't even to get away from Jer. It was to get away from the other housemates. Unfortunately, where Jerry went, they went too. I never got to spend time with him, only him, anymore. And I guess due to my unwillingness to go out to a Tea Bar (I like tea on occasion; I'm not a manic freak about it, though) or a hookah bar (Cecelia and Eddie have a hookah; it made me sick when they'd use it. The smell it produces was bothersome; why the ******** would I want to be SURROUNDED by an entire bar of them?), Jerry believed I didn't want to be around him.

However, in February 2009, an old friend contacted me again. I had been thinking of him again. And I guess he thought of me as well. We ended up reconnecting. We talked for days and days at a time. In April 2009, the 18th (a day before Jerry's birthday, so I guess it was a very good birthday present to him when this happened, likely the happiest he'd ever be concerning me), I boarded a plane headed back to Gulf Shores, AL. Right before I headed to my gate, he and I hugged. It was the first time in 3.5 years of being together that I felt safe in his embrace. That I felt warm. After all the abuse, both physical and emotional, that we'd thrown at each other for the 2 months before the airport, it's like we grew closer together. That we knew more about each other and we had finally said everything we wanted to say. If it weren't for the circumstances, I think we could've rekindled right there. That is, oddly enough, one of the few situations I regret not acting upon. I should've said something. I should've done something. Instead, I just said my goodbyes, got on my plane, and cried the entire way.
In July 2009, I was shattered. Over the months of living with my family, my mother had berated me down to nothing. I was worthless. Useless. My life was threatened daily or every other day. I was treated as if I was a plague upon her very existence. I felt hated. My mother literally told me she would slit my throat one night in my sleep, just so she could be rid of me.

I ended up staying the night with Thomas. It was at his family's place. There was no sense of privacy. So even if I wanted something to happen, it couldn't. All I wanted was to be around him. To be able to curl up in his arms and fall asleep. Like I'd done so many years ago. The next day, I knew I had to go back home. I was feeling distraught. I was happy the day before. It was a nice environment. To go back into a hostile atmosphere, where my own mother seemed to feel she should've gotten an abortion 23 years prior, I could barely keep things together. To top it off, Thomas was acting distant. The night before, he had gotten sick from eating way too much way too fast. He was sitting on the couch before going to bed. I was trying to make sure he was okay before he went to sleep. We kissed before he went to bed. It was a goodnight kiss. It wasn't an "OMG I LOVE YOU MAKE ME A FATHER" kiss. I wasn't expecting anything of it. And he was sick. All I wanted was for him to be okay. The little gesture was merely a physical representation of what I had issues saying.

That evening after I got home, I read a private message from him stating that he felt nothing from the kiss and didn't think he loved me the way I loved him. It had come at the wrong time. As soon as I walked into the door, my mother laid into me about some stupid thing or another. All I read every time I saw his message was that he hated me. That everyone hated me. That I was worthless and unwanted. It put me straight over the edge. I couldn't keep things together anymore. I couldn't stay strong anymore. My last pillar of strength was telling me, or so I read in my state of mania, that he hated me and wished I'd disappear. I ended up going to my room and crying. I don't know for how long. Hours passed. Late in the evening, my mother called me out to the living room. I was already gone, mentally. I couldn't even put up a good facade. My eyes were still filled with tears. My face was red and puffy. My mother was yelling at me for not getting my father a card. I asked when the hell I was supposed to go to the store since they were my only ride to begin with. She berated me some more. She berated Thomas. And even through what I had read and what I was feeling over it, I defended him. I told her to go ******** herself. I told her that her hatefilled heart meant nothing to me. I told her that I would've bought something more than a card (If I had been able to go to a store of my own volition), but her selfish, lazy a** needed $100 out of every one of my paychecks to feed her alcoholism. She got into my face looking like she was going to hit me. "Please. Give me a reason. Telling me you hate me. Telling me you wish I was dead. Give me a reason to beat your stupid, b***h a**. ******** try me, you hate filled harpy." My father pulled her away for a moment. She then turned around and asked if I was on drugs. Swearing up and down, that because my eyes were glazed over and my face was puffy and that I wasn't acting like myself, I must've been on drugs. She learned the next day just what the problem was.

Turning everything inward finally backfired. July 22nd 2009, a Wednesday, I showed up at Thomas'. I shouldn't have gone to him. If I really wanted to get things over with, I should've just killed myself in my mother's bathtub. I think it would've been perfect. But no, I showed up at the door of one of the only people that would stop me. And he did just that. He and his mother. She was a quirky type. I still recall what she said to me, though. I still refer to it when I'm removing things from my life that have done nothing but harm to me. She was a good person. I hope I can thank her some day, yeah?

A week later, I leaned on Thomas again. I still viewed him as my pillar of strength. I still wanted him in my life. I guess I knew, deep down, that it wasn't his fault that things went the way they did. I guess I knew that it was all the stress and emotional tearing my mother was putting me through, that what he said, when he said it, just broke down my last wall. I fell apart and took him down with me. What happened that last day we were together, though, has stayed with me for too long. For far too long. I ended up heading home, not in as sour of spirits as the last time we had parted, and found a private message waiting for me. He was telling me that I had changed. That he didn't want me for a friend until I found myself again. Years ago, I misread that. I read it as he didn't want me for a friend at all. Ever again. That I was a friend he never wanted to try to replace (that was his line to talk me down from Suicide on the 22nd), but he's sure as hell going to try, so I might as well take a hike. Strangely, I did not cry over that. I was angry. I was infuriated. I hated him. It was, quite frankly, uncalled for. And I think now, I understand the other reason he did what he did: He was leaving for college soon. And he didn't want me to be left "alone" with him so far away. He didn't want me to feel distraught and saddened. And while I know that's how I would've handled things, he still should've let things naturally decline than to so abruptly end the friendship. He should've just let me ruin the friendship; I had done such a good job the past two times. I'm pretty sure I could've destroyed it again.

Since that day, I've dreaded to see him again. I've gotten "feelings" of him being nearby on some days. I've gotten anxiety attacks just thinking about seeing him again. And why? I hate that. With everyone else, if anyone wants to start something, they best be ready to ********' throw down. But with him, why was I antsy? Why was I dreading the mere thought of seeing him, of hearing him, if I felt like everything was done and over with? Was it because that I'm far too forgiving, that if I was to be cornered by him and he apologized, I'd just blindly accept while hating myself? Or was it the conclusion I've come to: that I was yet again in the wrong?

In a way, I think the best solution to this whole deal is to not worry about apologies. To not worry about "I'm sorry for being a dumbass over the past 3 years". It's been said. It's been yelled. It's been felt and cried and dreamt.
I've gotten so much advice on how to move forward. "Just forget him. If he ever sees you, pretend that you forgot who he is." Yeah, my best friend of 10 years would totally believe that I forgot who he is. He'd totally believe that my photographic memory couldn't remember his face, his feeling, his presence. "Who is he and where does he live? I'll kick his a** for you." The sentiment was sweet in its own right. But aside from the fact that I like to fight my own battles (I just have never learned how to cry for help), I don't think I could see harm to him. For that first year, I dreamt of various ways to "rid" myself of him. Foolish. Stupid. And none of it, not a damn bit, I could've gone through with. I would've hurt myself before I could've hurt him. "Hey, come out and get drunk with me! It always helps on getting over past loves!" Yeah, no. I don't drink alcohol. I just turn everything inward and self destruct. Actually, these days, I just live by myself and disappear for days at a time. I actually mused on the fact that I could kill myself on Monday night after work and no one would notice I'm missing until I don't show up on Friday for work. And even then, no one that's more in my life, such as friends and family, would notice until the Saturday after. It was an amusing thought. I then cleaned the house for 6 hours. Cleaned it. Then cleaned it again. Then went to Wal-Mart, picked up a pack of toothbrushes, and deepcleaned it. Why? I dunno. It's something I do when I'm distressed.

On the 28th, I saw him again. He knows. I was hoping he wouldn't recognize me. But he did. I don't know why I hoped he wouldn't recognize me, though. Hah, I really don't think sometimes. Since then, I've been thinking. Trying to avoid him. Trying to make sure he isn't at my place of work again. My paranoia kicked in. Everything about that split moment was memorized. Car: Make, Model, Color, Tag. Everything. His clothes, his hairstyle. His phone number came flooding back into my mind. I then spent the rest of the day shaking like an epileptic at a nightclub. Yesterday, I talked with an old friend. She doesn't understand why I'm obsessing over this. Yes, why is the Obsessive Compulsive guy obsessing over something? ********, I've obsessed over obsessing. But anyway, she told me to just push him out of my mind and continue on as if nothing happened. I can't. I think she knows that I can't. She was just trying to be nice and give her view on it. And I appreciate her trying.
But I think I'll take things my way. I'm done acting like I've been. I'm done with the dread. I'm done with the stress. I've been sick since the 28th. And until this stress goes down, I'm going to stay sick. I know my body. I know how I get. I don't know how things will go, though. I don't know if anything will come of it.

I know that I said, 3.5 years ago, that I never wanted a message. I never wanted to be contacted. But I think, if I make the first try (is it really a first try at this stage? :P), maybe that statement can be retracted.

Oh, and anyone who wants to contact me: I may not be on here again for a while. It isn't due to me not having 'net. I most certainly have access to the internet whenever I want. I just forget about this site far too easily. Thus: 1-251-233-2301. Hit me up sometime. Make sure you state who you are, though. :P Some of you, I have your numbers already. But some of you...TELL ME WHO YOU ARE IF YOU TEXT ME. I WILL EAT YOU OTHERWISE. O:<

Tseta C. Aito
Community Member
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