>>82470497
Just a lot of ruminating. Most of my time was just spent thinking about him and the fun convos we would have, and as soon as I had the chance to talk to them I would get scared and wait for them to start the convo. I would time my convos so they would be near the time I go to sleep so we would talk for like 20 minutes. They probably thought I didn't care, but I was so fucking overwhelmed with thinking about him. I hated myself during the relationship, and I hated myself after it ended realising they would never want to speak with me ever again. Once I realised how fried my brain is, I have vowed to never get in another relationship because I just don't want to hurt someone else and me again.
Yes, it's been 5 months since we last spoke and I still think about him and how he made me feel wanted
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Spent a few days with this hot and tall girl, now I’m suicidal
So recently I had the opportunity to attend a big social-debating competition. The day before the event, someone messaged me on WhatsApp probably because I was active in the group discussing the topic. It turned out to be a girl, and since it was her first competition, she asked for my help and if she could stay with me the whole time because she had social anxiety.
I met her on the first day of the competition. She was tall, even wearing heels, nearly 6 feet. She was the textbook definition of a “Stacy”: very fair, messy fringe brown hair, model-like features. She was also a bit autistic, which made her even cuter. But the second I met her, I knew she was way out of my league. I’m ugly and only 5’7.
To keep the long story short—we became good friends. We stayed together throughout the whole competition (it lasted two days), took photos together, and I asked her about her life. She said she enjoyed my company and would be a regular at competitions. Even during the competition, she was approached by 4–5 guys asking her out. Someone even wrote her a whole poem. She rejected them all, though. All the women were orbiting around her, calling her beautiful.
And all of this happened while I was with her. Every time she put on her lip gloss, she would show it to me and ask, does this look good? And I would just stare at those pink lips. I felt so broken, knowing that never in a million years would she be mine. What a curse it is to even live. After the competition, she left, thanking me.
The moment I came back, I locked myself in my room and cried for hours. Not because of her, but because of my life. I know I will never receive the kind of desire and love she gets, and I’ll never have someone like her. What’s the use of my ugly fate? What wrong have I done? It’s been two days, and I’m still not over it. I don’t know, bros. I’m feeling very suicidal. Is there even a point to living if you can’t get what you desire?
I met her on the first day of the competition. She was tall, even wearing heels, nearly 6 feet. She was the textbook definition of a “Stacy”: very fair, messy fringe brown hair, model-like features. She was also a bit autistic, which made her even cuter. But the second I met her, I knew she was way out of my league. I’m ugly and only 5’7.
To keep the long story short—we became good friends. We stayed together throughout the whole competition (it lasted two days), took photos together, and I asked her about her life. She said she enjoyed my company and would be a regular at competitions. Even during the competition, she was approached by 4–5 guys asking her out. Someone even wrote her a whole poem. She rejected them all, though. All the women were orbiting around her, calling her beautiful.
And all of this happened while I was with her. Every time she put on her lip gloss, she would show it to me and ask, does this look good? And I would just stare at those pink lips. I felt so broken, knowing that never in a million years would she be mine. What a curse it is to even live. After the competition, she left, thanking me.
The moment I came back, I locked myself in my room and cried for hours. Not because of her, but because of my life. I know I will never receive the kind of desire and love she gets, and I’ll never have someone like her. What’s the use of my ugly fate? What wrong have I done? It’s been two days, and I’m still not over it. I don’t know, bros. I’m feeling very suicidal. Is there even a point to living if you can’t get what you desire?