The Unloved

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: June 22, 2016

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Submitted: June 22, 2016

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A time came in my life when I started feeling lonely. I would be in the company of people and still feel there was no one I could talk to. My family and my few friends couldn’t fill the hole that was in my heart. I felt lost, I felt like someone who was a zombie or someone who was just dead from the inside. I heard from two teachers over a course of two years, that they felt I was a psychologically disturbed person.

It was the end of my eighth semester when I met him online. It wasn’t much of a friendship when it started, but it did become something good later on. We exchanged numbers and pictures and there wasn’t a day, when we didn’t talk. He was charming and intelligent, I was the complete opposite. When he said he liked me, I felt the same way. It didn’t last longer than a week when he got completely tired from my obsessive attitude, where I wanted to talk to him all the time. In my defense, years of loneliness made me want to connect with him. He came back, this time admitting that he really liked me and didn’t want to hurt me. Sometimes people play games and if you like them, as much as I liked him, you give in every time. I did, after three four times, I still wanted to stay with him. We didn’t meet and that was something that did hurt me. I offered him to meet me, and every time he turned it down, saying he couldn’t make it for some reason or the other.

 Being blind is something I am good at. During our text and phone conversations, we became sexually intense. Being an nineteen year old, it was something I found very exciting. Those were the happiest three months of my life. He didn’t meet me, but he was more present than ever. He even told me he loved me and I told I have never loved anyone like I love him, which was true in so many ways. Then came a point, where we didn’t just sent messages to each other, but pictures as well. If you have ever sent an image of yourself, nude, or otherwise to someone you love, you must know how that experience is. It is like submitting yourself to them and letting them take control of you. It is an experience, where you give something important of yourself to the other person, because you love them to bits and pieces. That is what I did, over and over, but this huge part of me was never satisfied with what I did. There was always this overwhelming feeling of shame, which I pushed aside.

When they say love is blind, they forget the part where you stop using your mind. I did it over and over, for hours we talked about nothing else other than sex. That was the only way I connected with him; no matter what we talked about the conversation always ended with it. He didn’t force me to do anything, but my heart knew that if I want to keep him by my side, then it has to be this way. He started becoming distant for some reason, stopped saying he loved me and I didn’t even know what all that was about. This time, the communication died between us for a long time. He came months later, texted me that he missed me. He sweet talked, professed his love again and then we went down the same road. He never met, continued to say he couldn’t and we kept doing what we did before. This time, he was more demanding and I finally started feeling, that I didn’t mean anything to him.

He would only text me when he was free or when he wanted sex, and other times, he cut the conversation short and kept ignoring me. My heart is a dum-dum; I knew he didn’t love me the way I did, but I was lonely and I did love him. I was watching Looking, a show about gay men and their lives. It was February 10th late at night. Patrick wanted his relationship with Kevin official, but Kevin couldn’t break it off with his boyfriend. Patrick leaves crying and that is when I realized, that’s me and the worst part of it was that while Kevin loved Patrick, he never loved me.

I texted him, “Thank you for four wonderful years, Je’taime. Goodbye.” And he never replied. I went on with my life, thinking about him occasionally. He texted me after two months and I kept strong and never replied to him. He texted me again and I dodged him for thirteen months. The worst part is, even though I don’t speak with him anymore, he is still in my thoughts and my heart. I loved him. That’s the worst part.

Some experiences stay with you forever. This is mine.


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