It’s Painful — She Was Right to Block Me

This is a messy story wherein I tell as much truth as I can afford.

I hadn’t eaten in more than forty-eight hours. On day one, I was upset as the woman I love endangered herself carelessly, getting publicly intoxicated then hitching a ride home on a complete stranger’s motorcycle.

I’d always been aware of her affinity for danger; my recent inability to be there in person surely amplified my reaction.

I digress.

My stomach in twists, I had no appetite. That night, while she was out with her other — actually true, and clueless — boyfriend, I sent her a message. I chastised her for being reckless and risking to disappear on me and everyone in her life, trying to make a point that it’s unsafe to gamble with strangers.

She dedicated the next day and night to him, which was okay. The morning after, I still hadn’t eaten.

Jealousy

What came next made me question whether she wasn’t just punishing me for the first month of turmoil I’d caused for her — or more accurately, for us.

She told me of their perfect time together, described it for everything I fantasized we could have.

With him, all her problems melted away; they were close, often caressing, and felt alone together whilst in the company of others.

Then she quickly apologized, and unsent the entire string of messages describing the experience. I only remember the general idea of my response, but in conclusion, I told her I’d rather she continued to share everything with me, even when it could mean suffering.

It made me feel closer to her; I also have issues with control.

Note

I was always split on open relationships. This was known to her, that I merely — and begrudgingly — accepted it for her sake.

It was a complicated situation. I didn’t want her to be alone, and she so happened to meet a decent guy she wasn’t too overly into. He was well known by her family, so I trusted she’d be safe.

He was plain and boring, so I trusted myself to be safe.

In the end, I often empathized with him, declaring he didn’t deserve this treatment from us. I wouldn’t now be surprised if there was someone else about whom I also didn’t know.

It doesn’t matter now.

The Beginning of the End

Indeed, I wanted to know everything about their relationship, as it was about her. Maybe because it also felt about me.

We spoke normally for a few minutes, in which time she shared with me some funny memes — when suddenly, I became self-conscious that while he was making her feel incredible, and happy, I had just started her day by berating her about her behaviour.

I apologized; it seemed to throw her off.

I babbled a bit, but remember nothing of what I said. I had unsent it all pretty quickly.

A short guide to seeing unsent messages at the bottom of this piece ⬇️⬇️

I begged her to ignore me, to which she responded with a curt and unusual ‘K’.

Another full day passed in silence.

Breaking Down

I still hadn’t properly eaten yet.

The day before, it had been two teaspoons of potato salad. Tack on certain mental illness, being financially in the gutter, stuck in an unwelcome stranger’s home, had just heard my neighbours fighting for hours, was working through some weird old family shit, had mostly been in isolation during the pandemic — and, oh yeah:

The fact that a group of strange men now knew where she lived and worked!

My jealousy at this point, it seemed the last straw.

I felt a need to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.

My voice felt the need to release, but the people upstairs were home, and so I held it in. A rare sensation of violence passed through me. Respecting my belongings, I confined myself to the bed.

I forced myself to remain still, except for in brief moments of certain thrashing about, shaking, kicking and punching the mattress. I felt small, worthless, needy, and reasonably undesirable.

At one point I remember removing her from my social media accounts, before requesting to follow her once more.

Long term compartmentalization doesn’t always work out.

The Dream

I managed to wear myself out, and still starving, fell fast asleep.

It was night, we were at a sketchy motel party, there was a soft bluish light shining through the smoke inside the room. I didn’t recognize most of the faces, they were generic people.

She was there, mingling. I quietly observed the room, as I do.

Without much transition, we began to make out on the bed. A moment later, a few other men had joined in, ravaging her body. I was yet unphased. Suddenly, I noticed she was passed out drunk, and I felt a deep lurch in my stomach.

I abruptly appeared — without her — at an unknown bus station.

This was where I told her the dream had ended.

In reality, I had noticed my shoes were missing, and started walking back to the party for them.

Everything then became about a different dream altogether, one out of which I couldn’t make anything.

What It Meant

My dreams don’t usually represent how I make conscious decisions. I might want to disappear from most unpleasant situations, but I tend to stick things through.

In this case, the focus was on the fact I had already been letting her down, and felt powerless in getting us together, let alone coming to her rescue if anything were to happen.

These were things she cared about in a relationship.

My subconscious was warning me to reconsider my position in her life, before I let her down any further.

I Told Her Everything

I recounted to her my breakdown, and most of the dream.

I compared myself to a child, admitted I had always felt powerless in life, proclaimed I don’t have the balls to be perfect for her, that I felt I needed her more than she needed me, and knew she wasn’t attracted to this quality in a person.

Post-edit// November 17th, 2021 — very cognitively dissonant, considering our past experiences in the wilderness… or other choices I was still making, but then, this whole story is a cover up.

Perhaps as my state of panic made me weak, my subconscious could perform an attack against me.

Her only response that day came hours later :

‘maybe if you ate and slept more you’d be able to keep your composure.’

I proceeded to send her more messages, including a drab explanation of my aversion to violent situations and a friendlier message on her value and capabilities to be happy without such extremeness in her life.

Then, I unsent everything that had been written following her response.

Among these unsent messages included a confession that my initial contact with her this time around was intended to discuss removing each other from social media, before I’d failed to do it and relaunched us into talking regularly once more.

It was easier than fighting a constant urge to reconnect through the easily accessible Messenger app.

I don’t know if she read that part; she arrived online right as I was unsending the lot. Once more, I had upset her and she told me goodbye.

I later sent a .txt containing the basis for the messages I unsent, with an explanation of why I’d unsent them. If she ever looks at it, I doubt she’ll believe I don’t usually pre-compose my messages.

I swear, I don’t!

Sometimes everything is meant to be sent as a whole, and it feels better not to chance being interrupted in between.

Word count limits.

Insensible Obsession

I could never explain my lingering obsession with this woman. We hadn’t really spoken for three years, all in which time I’d occasionally be debating whether to cut ties entirely.

Surely, I was attracted to her entire being. And yet even from the start, I had willed not to get too close. Every outing in the woods, I feared being the last person to see her alive.

She could also be incredibly mean-spirited.

Post-edit// November 17th, 2021 — I actually didn’t have an issue with her meanness, and it infuriated her.

I Had It Coming

I know I made her feel horrible about herself when I judged her drinking problem and treated her as a liability to move in together, then further nitpicked for reasons I might be mistaken to be living together.

I went to extremes to avoid being straight with her, to the point of eventually having myself convinced things would just work themselves out.

I had kept her on the line, and eventually even allowed myself to believe I might actually go through with it all.

The closest I ever came to communicating my true will was when I told her it was only a rogue part of me, one which I was doing my best to stifle, and to destroy.

It wasn’t a lie, but neither was it a perfect truth.

Then there was the painting incident, where I criticized her most recent creation as being “not perfect”. I don’t need to be told on how many levels that was a wrongful and stupid thing to say.

Even if I genuinely had a sense it wasn’t up to her own standards. Which she later admitted, it wasn’t.

Whatever the reasons for my behaviour, it was wrong and entirely deserving of her retaliation.

I’ll Be Okay

For one, I’ve long been preparing for 300 years of aloneness.

It’s why the whole relationship failed the first time in 2018, and it’s why everything happened once more as it did in recently in 2021.

I never felt I was lying to her when I said she was the only one for me, that I wouldn’t be looking elsewhere, that if she wanted to make me wait a certain number of years, she could.

But then, I was still quite dead set on ending the relationship. I can say it now, not just to you, but to myself. And holy, did I ever put myself through some shit.

And her, I can’t forget what I did to her. I’ll be okay, the feelings just need to pass. I’m not sure if I’m being honest with you.

I’m doing my best, but perspectives don’t always align.

I know this is the best path for me to take. Get over it, move on, and dearly hope she doesn’t respond to my message asking if she’s okay, because I will be drawn back in.

I love her dearly, I miss her, I wish I could hear her voice, see her smile… and I hope it never comes up again.

The cackling perspective, the one which always resisted my feelings for her, it can duly go fuck itself.

And yet, I think I’ll just retrain it for prevention.

You can read the whole story in seven parts starting here —

Tip — How To See Unsent Messages

If you read up until the end, then I have a surprise for you.

At least in Android, you can enter the notification settings to turn on notification history.

This will allow you to see a certain number of recent notifications you’ve received on your phone, and is unaffected by unsends.

I never told her about this; I genuinely kept forgetting about it whenever we spoke.

Be Open Says;

Writers! Let’s be open!

Writers should take this!