It all started with the aching feeling in my chest. Well, not really aching. It’s like something vile that relentlessly grows and builds upon itself. I have found that the more I socialize, the more it grows. Socialization is like a fertilizer to the vile creature inside me. The more I think, the more it grows. Each thought a drop of water to feed its constant hunger. It keeps growing until it reached the base of my throat. When it’s here, I feel it may rip me open and burst out of me at any second, only it never does. It antagonizes me with the anticipation of finally being free only to remain, poisoning me from the inside. I want to release it, but it doesn’t want out. The only way lessen in is to cry. When I cry, it pushes the vile back down from my throat and into my chest again. In my chest it dwindles, but pushing it only seems to make it angrier, so it grows this time, only faster. It reaches my throat quicker each time, so I cry and cry and cry. Eventually I will never stop crying.
I have felt this vile several times throughout my life, a constant presence, but too small to heed any attention. It was hardly noticeable until my high school graduation, when everyone clutched each other, tears streaming down their faces as they said their sorrowful goodbyes. This is when I realized I had no friends. Sure, I had forged a myriad of friendships, but they were all superficial. I wouldn’t miss a single face in that entire crowd of caps and gowns. The “friendships” I had in high school lacked meaning and did nothing to soothe my loneliness. I would spend hours with the group of individuals I had labeled as friends and feel more alone than ever. I couldn’t relate to a single person and even though they were all very kind towards me, I was always the outsider. I was always the friend that didn’t get invited to group functions and I was always the friend who was unintentionally left out of the conversations. I had nothing to contribute to these people, so I stayed with them solely because people were meant to have friends. I never understood why I couldn’t form a connection with anyone, because I genuinely care about people as a whole and I cared about the people I spent time with, I just never felt close to them. I preferred my own company, but if I spent my lunches alone, people would know just how lonely I was. This terrifies me and I don’t know why. The thought of people knowing just how empty I am is scarier than the thought of being this lonely forever.
When I got hired at Disneyland, everything seemed to be looking upward. What better place for such a sad person to work than the happiest place on earth? My mom kept reassuring me “These are your people, these are the people you will relate to.” I had hoped so, too. I just wanted to find someone like me, someone who can understand my feelings and not make me feel like an outcast. I am aware that nobody intentionally makes me feel left out. Now that I think about it, I probably do that to myself. I read too much into things. I could be included in a conversation and wanted in a group and still convince myself that I am somehow left out. I don’t know how to stop feeling unwanted. Maybe me making myself feel unwanted is making other people not want me. Why am I like this?
So I began to socialize with the people around work. At first it was just friendly conversations with people, then ambiguous intentions of possible future plans. It was looking up. Then a boy at work started to notice me. As a pretty girl, notice is not unusual, but notice that lasts is. So after several conversations with him, I discovered we had a lot in common. He peaked my interest, which is something people rarely do. A few weeks later, he asked me to get food with him and a mutual friend (a friend I later discovered had been the one to push the boy into asking me out). It was a pleasant night, the boy and I caught a movie after dinner and I drove him home. Even after all this, the emptiness remained. I thought, maybe if I develop a relationship with this boy, it will go away. So we went on a few more dates. We had a few deep talks and I discovered a lot about this boy. He seemed like someone I could really relate to, someone I could grow to actually care about. This thought kept me through the aching for the month.
After work one day, I went to his apartment to hang out and we watched several of my favorite movies. I felt lighter, as if the emptiness wasn’t weighing my down as much as always, as if the boy was offering me strength to lift it a bit. We kissed that night, and I felt amazing. Since I had never been in a relationship before, I grew attached from this moment. Everything about him seemed so sweet and gentle. I was convinced he would never hurt me, as he was always talking about how much he cared about other and how much seeing others hurt bothered him. After that night, I spent about a day or two a week at his apartment. Things were better than ever, he was so caring and considerate towards me. Every time I was with him I went a little farther. First, it was him reaching under my shirt. Then, it was me grinding against him as we kissed. I’m still a virgin, so these were all major events that would never have happened had he not seemed so compassionate.
Finally, one day I went to his apartment on a day he wasn’t feeling well. I was supposed to spend the night because my parents were having a party at my house and I had an early shift the next morning. When I called him to ask where to park, he was very grumpy and rude. I had never heard that side of him before, but I blamed it on him being sick and tired. There was a moving truck in the parking lot, making it very difficult to park. He needed to move his roommate’s car in order for me to park on the lift, but he was very snappy with me as if the moving truck were my fault. Once we were parked, which took about a half hour and a lot of help from movers, we went inside and he lied down on me and apologized for being so grumpy. Shortly after, his roommates left for a party and we were alone. Things got really heated, and I did what was possibly the most regretted decision I’ve ever made.
Immediately after that, he told me he was very emotionally unavailable and he doesn’t feel anything for me, though he wished he could. This crushed me, because at this point, I had already started to care about this boy. Suddenly, that vile that had seemed nearly stifled jumped from my chest to my throat, as if it was waiting for this exact moment. For some reason, I assured him I understood and comforted him. I don’t know why I did that. I just don’t know. After this we had a short debate about Harry Potter, an attempt to try and pretend the rest of the night didn’t happen. When I woke up the next morning for work, I tiptoed into the bathroom to get ready, but sat on the cold marble floor and cried. I cried for what seemed like hours, but what was probably no more than fifteen minutes.
When I came back from work that day, the boy was still sleeping. I told him I had been thinking a lot, and I don’t want to rush him or make him feel uncomfortable. I told him that we could take things a lot slower and if that didn’t work out, we could try being friends.
He told me he’d love to be friends with me.
It was then that I knew he was done with me, and it was then that he stopped trying to talk to me. I would text him occasionally, he would respond hours later if at all. We were both invited to a small get together, so I asked him if he was going.
He never responded.
Five hours later I proceeded to ask in response to his lack of response if I could go to his apartment beforehand because there would be traffic if I left in time for the party.
No response.
I then texted him and called him out for ignoring me.
To this, he responded.
He said he didn’t know if he was going to the get together, and he had meant to reply, but had gotten sidetracked, but it should be fine for me to stop by before the party.
So on the day of the party, I stopped by with his Christmas present, which I had told him I was going to bring. He asked me why I had gotten him a Christmas present.
A few weeks earlier, he told me that if I didn’t know what to get him for Christmas, he needed a new mug because he didn’t have very many.
He told me he didn’t think I would seriously do it. Of course, he had gotten me nothing.
After sitting on his couch for several minutes watching him play video games, his roommate asked me if I could move my car so she could go to work. The get together was starting pretty soon, so I just left. Several hours later, I received a text asking me if I left and telling me that was kind of rude.
I tried to forget about him that day and focus on making new friends. It was a surprise I was invited to such an intimate gathering, as not many people were invited and they all seemed to be very close. It’s always difficult for me to be in a group of people who are already close friends, but I didn’t worry about that at all. Every spare thought that day was given to the boy, because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Every time I thought of him, the vile riled up and grew. He ignited my emptiness and made me feel lonelier than ever.
For the next week, I heard nothing from the boy. I went to a Christmas party, only to discover he was there, too. He didn’t talk to me much that night. He sat down next to me for a minute and asked how it was going, only to be summoned by a friend to take some shots. At the end of the night, I deliberately said goodbye to everyone at that party, but him, including his close friends. To this, he responded negatively. He chased me to the door and demanded a hug goodbye, then promised to text me as soon as I left. He texted me 2 hours later and then never responded to my response.
I didn’t hear from him again until a few days later, when I left my wallet at work and a friend of his found it and gave it to him to return to me. I called him and texted him because I really needed my wallet. After no response, I went off on him and sent an angry paragraph. In response to this, he called me to say he had left my wallet in the friend’s car and never took it with him. Immediately after he said this, I hung up and texted her. He didn’t take this well, and called back quickly. He said he didn’t call me just for the wallet, he wanted to know why I was so mad at him. I informed him that ignoring a girl usually doesn’t go very well and he claimed he was only mad because I had left his house so quickly that day without a goodbye. He then said he would try to contact me more and we had a brief conversation about light topics, trying to keep from igniting another argument. We ended with him telling me to ask him any time I want to talk.
On Christmas day, I asked him if we could talk the next day, and he called me right then and we talked about our Christmas’. Again, the conversation was light as we treaded around any real problems. That was the last time I talked to him before New Year’s Eve, where he was once again at a party I also attended. I drank a bit for the first time that night. Everyone says drinking takes the edge off, so I was hoping it could numb my aching and emptiness. It didn’t work. The more I drank, the dizzier and more upset I got. I forced conversation with people, but I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at him the whole night. I always ended up in the same room as him, and I’m convinced I was doing it intentionally, though I can’t remember. He didn’t talk to me until the clock struck twelve. People were hugging and cheering and everyone was so happy, but I had never felt more alone. How do you feel completely alone in a group of people? I did. It felt as if I was a million miles away, watching the surrounding people on a television screen, completely detached from the situation.
I couldn’t let people know how alone I felt, so I mimicked everyone else and hugged every person in that room. When I got to him, I hugged him and didn’t want to let go. I don’t know why I torture myself like that. I sat down against the wall and he sat next to me. I made several attempts at conversation, but he stared blankly at the wall and kept his responses brief if he responded at all. I informed him that the girl I was supposed to spend the night with had already left and she was supposed to be my ride. He shrugged and told me that sucks. I sat for another few minutes torturing myself before a girl came over and asked if I wanted to join her and her friend for beer in the living room. I followed her and the boy remained behind. Later, a kind girl offered to let me stay with her for the night, but I couldn’t forget how little the boy seemed to care about my predicament. The vile grew and spread through my chest that night like and virus attacking my body. The next day, for some reason, I texted the boy to inform him I had found somewhere to stay, in case he was worried. He responded that he wasn’t worried. I asked him if I could stop by his place, because even after everything, I still had some hope that this boy could cure my loneliness. I had just lost my only “friend” about a week earlier after she showed how little she cared about me, and I really needed to be around someone, I needed someone to talk to. He told me no. I didn’t text him for weeks after that. I would see him occasionally at work or at gatherings, but conversation was sparse between us.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it. Conversations after this point seem hazier, so forgive me for my memory. The emptiness grew and the outer world became more of a dream. Days would go by where I would hardly remember what I had done. I remember texting him, going off on him for the way he treated me. I knew to do this because this is the only thing that every beckons any response from him. I would ask him to call me and he would say okay and then never would. I’m not sure whether happened before or after I went off on him, though it happened within a few days of each other. I started to get a bit crazier. Every time, though, he would call me and calm me down, assuring me that there was a logical explanation for his behavior. He blamed it on the pot, he claimed he smoked too much and it makes him forget to talk to people. He said he would try more. He always said he would try more, and I always believed it.
A few days after the call, days where the aching was so bad I could hardly stand it, I texted him. I brought up something we had earlier bonded about. He responded fairly quickly, but the conversation ended on my response. It fed my aching chest.
The next day, he texted me. A simple hey, but it was enough for me to believe he actually meant it when he said he would put in more effort. It was a short conversation and it once again ended on my response. A day or two after that, I went to Universal Studios and snapchatted him a picture. He texted me that night. He asked if I enjoyed Harry Potter world and I told him that I had. I asked if he had been and he told me no, and said perhaps he would take someone with him some day. It was my mistake when I told him we should go together sometime. He didn’t respond. It was my paranoia from all the previous situations that drove me to check when he was last active on Facebook. It said he had been active 20 minutes after I sent the text. I proceeded to text him and call him out for ignoring me. He texted the next morning and said he fell asleep. This drove me beyond crazy. I’ve always been someone that has been ignored or pushed to the side, and I wasn’t going to let him do it, too. So I responded by telling him I knew he saw my text because he was active on Facebook. He told me I sounded crazy. I told him I didn’t want to be his friend or have anything to do with him. He didn’t understand everything that was happening with me. He didn’t know about the vile, the emptiness, the loneliness that was encompassing my life. He didn’t know just how fragile I was and how horrible he made me feel. Every ignored text aggravated me and brought me to tears. It wasn’t about the fact that he was ignoring me. That’s something he doesn’t get. He thinks it was about him. None of this was about him. I’ve been ignored and invisible my whole life. This was me trying to retaliate, to finally be heard and rid myself of this aching vile in my chest. He treated me horribly, true, but my actions were to try and prove to myself that I am worth something, that I don’t deserve this loneliness that haunts me.
He didn’t respond, but that was alright because I had proven to myself that I could stand up for myself, even if I was invisible in doing it. Several days later, I passed by him at work and refused to look his way. He texted me later that day and asked if he could call me later. I should have said no. I would have saved myself so much more pain if I had said no. He called me that night and I told him that I can’t have absent friends in my life, and if he wanted to be my friend all he had to do was put some effort in. He said he guessed we couldn’t be friends. The vile leaped into my throat and tears streamed down my face before I could stop them. The vile did not lessen as usual. If anything, the feeling of bursting felt stronger than ever. I hung up on him, and he texted me asking why I had done that when he had been nothing but respectful. I wondered how it was respectful to me to tell me you couldn’t be bothered to put in the effort to be my friend. That’s what broke me. I texted several long paragraphs and got no response in return, so I called him. He answered immediately. I was ready to go off on him, to tell him he was so horrible to me and he claims to care so much about people, but treated me like I meant nothing. However, what I said was a different story. I told him I’d try it his way. I told him he didn’t have to text me if he didn’t want to, he could keep doing what he was doing. I despise myself for this. He told me I am too immature, that my previous actions were something that would happen in high school. I can’t disagree with this. I did act very immature, especially for a person who is constantly told how mature they are for their age, but this emptiness, this aching, has driven me to madness. I have found myself acting in ways so unlike my usual self. It was overcoming me, all I could think and feel was the loneliness that has followed me my entire life. Here was one person I could relate to, and I craved human connection so much that it didn’t matter how little respect the person showed me. Loneliness had taken over my conscience, and I was buried within it. Somewhere in there, I was screaming at myself to stop. I knew long ago that this boy was a bad idea, but I couldn’t give up on him. It’s difficult for me to give up on people. Because as hard as it is for me to connect, I still care about every person for some reason and I wish it would stop. It would make my life a lot easier.
My therapist told me I should write down what has been on my mind most and it is this story, and how much I regret my actions throughout. I should have had more respect for myself. Though the aching and loneliness is still there, I will never let it overcome me again. And to the boy in this story, I hope you learned my side of the story and have come to see that you drove me past the point of breaking, but I forgive you because I should had ended it long before. It’s only now that I know that I am suffering from depression and social anxiety disorder, and I hope to one day recover and look back with gladness that those feelings no longer haunt me.