ScornedStoic
Fated
- Jan 17, 2020
- 89
I want to cry and scream loud enough for the entire planet to hear. But usually it just manifests in me rotting in place for hours on end. I've been smoking truly copious amounts of weed and drinking heavily to make reality without her just barely tolerable. When I think about her I get this feeling of dread that is unspeakably strong.
I used to fantasize about romantic relationships all the time whenever my mind was free to wander. Back in school, or at work, I'd daydream entire scenarios and relationships, savoring each fictional moment as I designed it to play out exactly as I wanted it.
I can't fantasize anymore because she was exactly everything I wanted. It all played out exactly how I dreamt. In over a decade and a half I've never been as happy as I was with her, and that barely even counts because back then I was a child. Every time my mind goes to its old habits to start fantasizing again, it without fail always leads me to remembering her, my time with her. I can't even get reprieve in fantasy, and I cant fantasize about her either without wanting to hold a knife to my throat. I know what I lost. I lost my soulmate. She truly was the one and I just knew. It just clicked. Now it will never be the same. After her, nothing.
I had some interactions with some other girls, even had sex, but it was all numb. None of it had any of the passion or excitement or profound happiness, they were just minor distractions. The worst part? They were both so very suited to me. If I had met them before her, I probably would have been in ecstasy. But now, after her, I just wasnt excited to be with them in the way I was with her. I didnt feel the renewed zest for life and desire to try living again like I did with her.
I've struggled with monstrous depression and suicidal thoughts for most of my life, but after she left me I realized I'd never known truly what it meant to want to die before she killed me. I had not wanted to live the life I'd been given, the life of suffering forced upon me, but I nevertheless always possessed that pervasive spark that told me there may be hope one day for something better. A passion for living, a desire to see the end, a willingness to give each new day a new shot. But I don't feel like that anymore. Now I know I truly want to die and it's all encompassing. I think about the gruesome details of how every step will play out; the planning, the execution, and the aftermath. And none of it scares me anymore. It doesn't disturb me. If anything it just tires me out a little because I wish I could just get it over with sooner, but I have no luck finding SN yet. I'll probably keep looking for another year and if I can't find it I'm going to blow my brains out with a shotgun.
I can't take this anymore. I was lifted out of the filth and darkness of the underclass to live with my god, all that which I had idolized, exalted, venerated to live with who was all I revered and aspired to for only the briefest glimpse, but long enough for me to forever more know precisely how special and to what measure I am missing. Singular significance that can know no replacement.
She will not miss me when I'm gone; she won't even know. I'm nothing to her now. Truly nothing. Yet no matter how total her discarding of me like an old unwanted toy is, I will never stop loving her. To quote one of my favourite movies, "I want to go out while I can still remember what the cheers of the crowd sound like." I barely remember her voice or how she smelled anymore, I can't emulate her touch and the memories are fading, but never enough to remove the stain of agony that lingers as a footprint of their presence.
Maeve, I love you. I wish I would have been good enough, but I know I'm naught but an insignificant failure of your past to you now. I wish I could still wonder if you'll ever have any significant thought about me ever again...
I used to fantasize about romantic relationships all the time whenever my mind was free to wander. Back in school, or at work, I'd daydream entire scenarios and relationships, savoring each fictional moment as I designed it to play out exactly as I wanted it.
I can't fantasize anymore because she was exactly everything I wanted. It all played out exactly how I dreamt. In over a decade and a half I've never been as happy as I was with her, and that barely even counts because back then I was a child. Every time my mind goes to its old habits to start fantasizing again, it without fail always leads me to remembering her, my time with her. I can't even get reprieve in fantasy, and I cant fantasize about her either without wanting to hold a knife to my throat. I know what I lost. I lost my soulmate. She truly was the one and I just knew. It just clicked. Now it will never be the same. After her, nothing.
I had some interactions with some other girls, even had sex, but it was all numb. None of it had any of the passion or excitement or profound happiness, they were just minor distractions. The worst part? They were both so very suited to me. If I had met them before her, I probably would have been in ecstasy. But now, after her, I just wasnt excited to be with them in the way I was with her. I didnt feel the renewed zest for life and desire to try living again like I did with her.
I've struggled with monstrous depression and suicidal thoughts for most of my life, but after she left me I realized I'd never known truly what it meant to want to die before she killed me. I had not wanted to live the life I'd been given, the life of suffering forced upon me, but I nevertheless always possessed that pervasive spark that told me there may be hope one day for something better. A passion for living, a desire to see the end, a willingness to give each new day a new shot. But I don't feel like that anymore. Now I know I truly want to die and it's all encompassing. I think about the gruesome details of how every step will play out; the planning, the execution, and the aftermath. And none of it scares me anymore. It doesn't disturb me. If anything it just tires me out a little because I wish I could just get it over with sooner, but I have no luck finding SN yet. I'll probably keep looking for another year and if I can't find it I'm going to blow my brains out with a shotgun.
I can't take this anymore. I was lifted out of the filth and darkness of the underclass to live with my god, all that which I had idolized, exalted, venerated to live with who was all I revered and aspired to for only the briefest glimpse, but long enough for me to forever more know precisely how special and to what measure I am missing. Singular significance that can know no replacement.
She will not miss me when I'm gone; she won't even know. I'm nothing to her now. Truly nothing. Yet no matter how total her discarding of me like an old unwanted toy is, I will never stop loving her. To quote one of my favourite movies, "I want to go out while I can still remember what the cheers of the crowd sound like." I barely remember her voice or how she smelled anymore, I can't emulate her touch and the memories are fading, but never enough to remove the stain of agony that lingers as a footprint of their presence.
Maeve, I love you. I wish I would have been good enough, but I know I'm naught but an insignificant failure of your past to you now. I wish I could still wonder if you'll ever have any significant thought about me ever again...
