I hoped I wouldn’t have cause to write a part two of this, but here I am again. That guy A wrote to me last week and I have been trying to process it, and make head or tail of it. Unfortunately, I am stuck in a rut of self-hate whenever I read it.
He claims he has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, that I ruined his life, that I caused him to have a breakdown and that essentially, I have broken him. He said that his girlfriend has told him to stop writing to me- I doubt she even knows. He used to do a lot of things behind her back whilst telling me that she was suspicious of him- like I wasn’t supposed to hint at the fact we used to talk online a lot whilst she was around.
I know I am not an angel where that whole awful mess was concerned. I beat myself up over the whole situation frequently. The problem is, I have no normal frame of reference for a relationship and I am not sure if I just was the biggest, most fucked up mess that happened to them, or if me and her were being used. I suspect we were. I just don’t know it.
As such, I’m posting the mail he wrote, of course devoid of real names. I’m not that much of a bitch. The reason I’m posting this is because I need to know if we were both being played again or if it was me.
Can people possibly read and let me know?
Hi. Well here I am again, messaging you. Wondering if you ever even see these. Seems stupid when you think about it, but I’ve found it helps. My girlfriend says I need to move on with my life. It’s obvious you have. I guess I just hate it when things go unsaid. It wont end you know. Not for me. You came into my life and shook the foundation of my existence the way no other person has. You made my world brighter and darker. I now am diagnosed with Bi-polar disorder which in truth, explains a lot. I’m ill most of the time which makes work very hard and I don’t really have many people left in my life. You destroyed my life, and yet I don’t know how to feel in regards to you. You’ve moved on from that time and place that we spent together but I’m haunted by the memory of you. I hate you more passionately than I’ve ever hated anyone. But I know somewhere down I’m still in love with the mad woman I met. To be honest I don’t even know if she was real. If you were real. I wish I knew. You’ll probably never see this and even if you do you probably wont reply. You haven’t replied to anything I’ve sent in the last year or so. But at least if you do I can move on. Or maybe you like the idea of my suffering, I don’t really know. I sit and wait for this to end.