I hate myself for still loving my unrequited love

[Doesn'tMatterWho]

I’m so sorry for spamming here, but I didn’t know where to share this. I know this is a negligible issue in comparison with other people’s problems, but this has been causing me significant distress over the past months.

Storytime… Eight years ago, my first case of being in love was in ninth grade, and after I confessed to my classmate, at first, he said he liked me, too, but one day later he said he actually didn’t. I cried for a while, then got over it, then we became best friends and we still are besties. Also, he came out as gay, so maybe that explains his initial uncertainty. But yeah, anyway, after that case I promised myself never to love anyone unless I’m 100% certain he loves me, too, to avoid heartbreak (yeah, I know – it’s a stupid idea, but bear with me).

Anyway, fast forward to last year, around this time of the year. I fell in love with a guy at university. At first, I tried to gaslight myself that I only saw him as a friend, and that he probably saw me only as a friend, too. Therefore, in my mind I had no reason to love him. Great, but everyone else around me at university urged me to “try my shot” and they led me to believe that he liked me. At first, I replied to everyone with “guys, chill, he only sees me as a friend”, but the seed of doubt they planted in me grew… and I started perceiving his friendliness as something more. And that single speck of hope that arose in me was as if someone had flipped a switch in my brain and I told myself “Okay, it’s official – I’m in love”. It wasn’t something that wasn’t already in the realm of possibility – it was just that I was finally willing to admit it to myself.

What followed was a period of three months when I would only think about him 24/7. Whenever I walked past the window of my dorm room, I’d look outside in case I’d see him (coincidentally, we lived in the same block for a while, but he moved mid-semester). I once cooked him a jar of soup (super random, I know). I made him a cake. I drew watercolor landscapes for him (and other people at university, but I would always put more effort in the ones for him). Secretly, I wrote about a dozen poems about him (never revealed those, thank God). Whenever I saw him smile across the room, or whenever I heard his contagious laughter, it made my day. He’s a quite cheerful guy. But only one time I saw him just a little sad, and I couldn’t help but cry. I know it seems really stupid now that I’m typing this, but back then that was how my brain worked: every single one of his joys brought me even greater joy, and the smallest of sorrows he felt brought me to a state of depression. In front of him, I’d act like I’m just a friend, and sometimes like I don’t even care. I’d even poke fun at him for some trivial flaws of his. There were times I heavily criticized him: I called him terrible for judging a girl over an ink stain on her trousers, and I criticized him for gossiping about other people. Now, I do realize those behaviors of his were problematic, but I think I was harsh in my critique as well. I was mean to him in the way I scolded him for those. But yeah, anyway, we remained friends… and secretly I still loved him.

Three or four months had passed and I couldn’t keep my feelings a secret anymore. We talked on the phone one evening and I casually confessed. He was surprised, even shocked. He was extremely polite and gentle in his rejection. He kindly said that he always saw me as a friend. Actually, he tried to say it, but since I didn’t want to audibly hear him say it out loud, I interrupted him mid-sentence, and said: “yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you don’t need to say it, I know. I mean, I knew you’d react this way, that’s why I didn’t say anything for so long, but I just had to let it out, that’s all”. Like the biggest coward on earth… So yeah, we quickly changed the subject. We talked about other stuff, it was a friendly chat, and he told me he’d want to keep in touch as friends. The call ended. I went to sleep in a relatively calm state, but once I woke up reality started to sink in and… I kind of just cried for days… weeks… months. What’s weird is that shortly after this event, I developed arrhythmia and tachycardia, and I take a bunch of pills for that. I started anxiety medication, too. Summer vacation sucked, but at least it provided the distance I needed to grieve. I used the time to distract myself… and burn the papers I had written those poems on. It was a bit cathartic, but not for long.

Autumn came, and returning to university and seeing him once again was a living hell. Because (despite his own request to keep in touch and remain friends) he was very distant, barely even said hello to me, sometimes outright pretended I didn’t exist in the same room as everyone else… He never called me again. He never texted me again. I sent him only one message because I had promised to help him out with something, so I did him a favor… and he left me on “seen”. Like… I get it – it must be really awkward for him. I’ve been there, too – having rejected someone and then having to continue communicating. I know it’s awkward, and it sucks, but… It hurts. It hurts because it’s as though I don’t even exist. Like I’m absolutely nothing. Like a useless piece of trash. That’s not his intention, but it’s how I feel. To me, he was everything. I loved him enough to the point where, if necessary, I would’ve gladly given my life in order to save him. Melodramatic, I know. But it’s sincere. The people at university who knew about the ordeal made fun of him in front of me, which made me feel bad. I was overwhelmed with my pain – both physical and mental. I hadn’t engaged in self harm for a year and a half, but I relapsed because of those overwhelming feelings. It hurts to be reminded of him, to see him, to hear his voice… I know it’s not his fault. All he ever did was to be honest. It’s not his fault I’m such a baby and I still can’t get over him (although in real life I act normally around him, casually, as though I genuinely don’t feel anything towards him).

So, my current state is this. I’m going through some stressful stuff in general. But if there’s one thing that has the ability to destroy my day (even if it was a relatively good day) is being reminded of him. I’ve hidden his account from my social media, I avoid being in the places he usually is, I avoid talking to his colleagues… I’ve built so many walls between us hoping this would help me heal. But even just the mention of his name (which happened today and was enough to ruin my entire day) just places me in a dark place where I dwell on how I broke my own heart (both literally and figuratively). I feel miserable, torn apart, thrown away in the gutter… Every time I remember anything about him, I just feel… like dying. I want to stop hurting. I want to rip my heart out of my chest just to stop feeling this ache. I want to hurt myself to somehow express to myself how I’m feeling. I know it’s wrong, it’s messed up, and that I should finally just suck it up and get over it. But I can’t. And I absolutely despise myself for what I’m about to say, but… I still love him. And even though we’re absolutely not meant for each other, and it’s actually a good thing that nothing really happened… even though he would never ever feel the same… even though he doesn’t care about my existence… even though I pretend that I don’t give a damn… deep down I still love him. And it’s killing me.

[shawn08]

Heartbreak is tough, especially when it feels like it’s never-ending. You don’t need to hate yourself for having these feelings. Sometimes, we love people who can't return it, and that doesn't make us weak or pathetic. It’s just part of being human. It's okay to feel hurt and take your time to heal. If you're feeling stuck in a bad place, it might help to talk to someone, whether that’s a friend or a professional.