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Sad Lesbian

I don't think you're listening to me. Every time I send out a helpless cry, you never seem to understand.

Looking out this window now, all I can see is your face. Well, not exactly your face- it's been so long since I've seen you, talked to you. I can barely remember the contours of your cheeks, or the smile that used to welcome me to school every day. I just don't remember.

But I can remember (Or sense, maybe. That seems like a better word) how it made you feel, when I did it.

For your convenience I'll just say it; I broke up with you, and for that you'll probably never forgive me. For that, I'll probably never forgive myself.

I had all of the wrong ideas when you asked me that day. I thought it was perfect, the way you asked me. I still sometimes laugh at the memory; Doing our homework in my basement while you tried relentlessly to find a way to ask me out, while I dodged every possible conversation route for you. How you finally gave up and passed me a note on your phone, which was written frantically and rushed.

Something that has evaded my thoughts for a while, probably because I couldn't except it, was that I was avoiding your attempts at a conversation about it on purpose. I knew what was up, subconsciously, and I was trying my best to find a way to get out of it. At first I think I was confused by my actions, but now I'm starting to see things clearer than ever.

I had a tiny crush on you before we became good friends, but the truth is, by the time you asked me out I was getting over it. I liked how it was when we were just friends. I liked how I could talk to you easily, and how it felt to have someone else, someone new. You see, not very many people come into my life, and when they do, they either leave as fast as they can or someone else leaves before they have a chance to.

On top of that, I was hugely depressed last summer. That seems so far away now, even though it feels like yesterday to me. It's already summertime again, and I can feel the lukewarm night's breeze coming in from my window now, just like all the years before. The only difference is that my sorrow is even deeper.

Stuck up in my house for those many months made me feel more lonely than ever. My friends never talked to me, and if they did it was because I had contacted them first, not to mention there were only two of them. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night that summer, for a while at least.

Even though school started and I began to feel much better, especially after rekindling some old friendships, I thought those feelings of rejection and isolation were gone. But maybe there was still a trace of them there, pushing me closer to you. I was greedy.

And here you were, a cute, kind, and all around amazing guy waiting for me to make my decision, would I be your girlfriend?

So of course I said yes, but still reluctantly. I was completely aware of my lack of romantic and social skills. When it came to that side of things, it felt to me like whatever godly beings created my brain forgot to add those things in. I was totally lost.

So we started dating, and I'll never forget the awkwardness of the entire thing, not just the first week or two. It wasn't you're fault, it was mine. I'm the one that can't just be normal around your friends, because I'm a shy little idiot. You would never admit it to me, and sometimes I just wished you would.

But you could never point out a single flaw of mine, ever. And every time the subject came up, you denied everything like it wasn't an obvious statement of truth. You complimented me all the time, every day. You were the nicest, most considerate person to me. Trust me when I say that was the best that anyone has treated me in my life.

But, secretly, I hated the compliments. I wanted you to tell me that I was horrid, that I was weak and ugly and awkward, which were all things I knew about myself, things I know about myself now. Disgust plagues me when I look in the mirror, and not just from the physical reflection, but because of what I see inside. I couldn't believe your kind comments and it made me feel sick inside to hear you lie.

But what was worse was when you compared yourself to me. It seemed like you saw me as some sort of goddess, beautiful and powerful and magnificent in every way, with the absence of flaw. But when you looked back at yourself you saw some horrible, ugly creature that was completely undeserving of my attention. It made me feel even more sick.

But aside from all that, something felt wrong, and until very recently I wasn't able to come up with this answer, the the answer that you've been pleading me to give you since the day I broke up with you on the concrete bench behind the school, in the afternoon sun.

Thinking about it is so hard for me, the way you don't believe me. I can't imagine the disgust in your mind when you think of me anymore. But I can tell you that at least some of what you think is false. You can deny it all you want, like you always do when I proclaim my faults and your feelings, but I know you think I lied.

Sure, I lied a little while we were together. Your relentless pity and sureness that I would break up with you nearly pushed me to the brink of a breakdown. Every time you said, "I know you'll break up with me soon, I just do, trust me," I didn't know what to say. For most of the time, I wasn't lying, and I had no plans to break up with you. For the last week though, I felt like the biggest lying bitch ever.

But that's not what I'm talking about, and you know that by now. You think I've been lying about something completely different.

At the time that I broke up with you, I truly did not know why, and that is the utmost truth. When I told you that, I knew you didn't believe me. You thought I was lying to protect you, but I was telling the only truth I knew at the time. You would constantly ask, "But what's the real reason?", and I would have to try, unsuccessfully, to convince you again.

All I knew then was that something did not feel right. I was crumbling to pieces, although I might not have known at the time. My mental health was not in the best place when you asked me, like it hasn't been for years and it still isn't now. I couldn't handle the relationship from the start and felt like I was always struggling so hard to keep up my end of it, which I failed at miserably the entire time. But worse than that, I began to pretend. I acted like everything was fine and I wanted to come hang out when really all I wanted to do was go home and be alone with my thoughts. But I also thought that was selfish.

And when I realized that something between us, at least from my point of view, was off, I couldn't ignore it. It was too much for me. I couldn't pretend that everything was fine anymore, and I had to do what I'd been dreading for a couple of days at that point.

So when I pleaded and tried to be as sincere as possible on that bench that day, I wanted you to know how much it hurt me, hurting you.

Back at that point, my mental health had gotten so bad that I couldn't even feel emotion anymore, which I told you about, afterwards. I knew it was there, and I knew there was pain, but I couldn't feel it. It was all behind a wall.

Now I can feel it, all of it. The guilt, the shame, and sorrow. I think about the ways I've hurt you almost every minute of my life now that I can feel again, but feeling comes with its cost doesn't it? I can feel the bad things again too.

But I had no way of knowing why it felt wrong until I healed. I didn't notice it until now, but you were very frustrated when I told you this. You thought I was hiding the real reason, and that's why you kept asking.

Over time I healed, and I started to come to more realizations. I noticed something that I thought could be the reason why everything felt so wrong. It might still be it, but I question it every day, and I have no idea how to feel about it. I might be Lesbian.

I thought I was pansexual before I started dating you, but one day I finally realized that maybe that was why it felt so off, and examining it in my head, it seems pretty accurate to me.

But you pushed me into to telling you. I know you had no bad intentions, and you had the right to understand and have some closure. You asked one day again after I sent you a long paragraph-text as yet another apology. This time, I had to give you something, so I told you what was on my mind most recently. I wasn't going to tell you that soon, and you have no idea how painful it was for me to tell you, especially since I was not and still am not completely sure.

But after all that, I think what the biggest thing at hand is that you think I was lying before, when I told you that I didn't know, and that terrifies me more than maybe the rest of the things I did. It scares me that you think worse of me than I actually am, if I'm right.

I want you to understand more than anything that what I did didn't just translate all of the heartbreak to you. I feel the bitter pain that comes with the guilt of what I did, and I feel it every minute of every day. I can't get it out of my head. Every time I try to explain to you, it feels like you don't really hear what I'm trying to say, you just assume and only pick up on the surface comments.

But what I want more than anything is for you to understand, to really know. I WANT YOU TO LISTEN TO ME. I want you to really know what was going on in my head that whole time, and I wan't you to know my side of the story. You weren't just a little, disposable fling: I care about you, I just can't care about you in that way.

And I will always be sorry about that, sorry that I couldn't find a way to love you when I knew that you loved me. It's not fair. I'm not fair.

I did enjoy some of it though, it wasn't complete hell like you think. I wasn't pretending the entire time. I liked what it felt like to have someone there for me, always. I liked what it felt like to hug someone, for what felt like the first time in years. I liked what it felt to talk to you, and to listen to you, and to be wanted. I'd never been wanted, until then. I loved feeling like I was part of something; seeing into your life, your family, and learning so much about such a beautiful person.

So right now, as I stare out this window, I think I can see your house from so far across the river. Can you hear me right now? Can you sense the screaming inside my head? Can you see me looking over at you, begging you too look back?

I know its dark, but maybe the chance is still there. Maybe you'll hear the echo. Maybe you'll stumble across my words someday, maybe.

June 08, 2021 22:33

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Gracie Jean
22:56 Jun 08, 2021

I didn't want to say much after I wrote this, but I feel I should give an explanation for any unfortunate readers who stumble upon this. Every single word, except for the looking out the window part, is true (I felt the need to at least try to fit into the prompt). The purpose was not really to entertain anyone, sorry. It was more to give me some sense of closure, which I hope it does, and also to try to let this person know this side of the story if they ever find this (Which is extremely doubtful. They are aware of the previous stories I'v...

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