Share one of your life's stories:

When writing your story, please use correct spelling and grammar. Please use a capital I rather than a lower i, and use apostrophes correctly. Such as I'm, don't, can't.

I don’t know the person who was once me

So ever since my emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend broke up with me, or better off said, broke me, I stopped giving a fuck. About pretty much everything.

And now thinking about all of it, literally my whole life and how it has panned out, I’ve come to the realisation that I simply cared too much, and so desperately wanted a path. My life is really unpredictable as my dad is suffering from complications from having cancer. My current life status is: No-Plans-Until-I-Know-What-Next-Week-Looks-Like. If you asked me if I’m going anywhere for the summer, honey I can’t even tell you if I’m seeing a friend tomorrow or spending my day in the hospital.

But essentially, I stopped caring. I spent so much time caring for others to even see that I was being used and stomped on in the process. I watched everyone’s backs, but no one ever had mine. I wanted nothing more than to be loved. By anyone, I just wanted someone to love me like there was no tomorrow, like I did for others.

I eventually clicked, and it broke my heart. So now I stick on my own. I miss human connection. Someone to converse with and tell them everything and feel content with knowing they wouldn’t screw me over.

I’m so obsessed with the idea of love and having someone around, because I’m lonely. I’m a buildup that I just want to release at this point. I wonder if it’s even worth caring for just a moment, of letting a real person know my feelings. So I let go. I don’t want to care about how it will bite me in the ass later. I try to remind myself that these people won’t be around forever. I graduate in a year and then I will never have to see them again. Being afraid of people because I know they’re monsters with a mask. I’ve seen the monster, ugly and frightening and I don’t want a fucking bar of it.

So alone is okay then right? And for a few moments, I sit and watch my life fall to pieces and then admire each and every piece of a person who I once knew. At sixteen, I am ruined but alive. But I don’t know this person anymore. I don’t know the person who was once me.

I’m okay with being someone entirely different.

Leave an anonymous comment