I never wanted to fuck them. I never wanted a “romantic” relationship really. But I was confused; and because I’ve never had an intimate relationship, ever, I was I guess curious, and it seemed like a way to be close to them, because I wanted to be close to them like that, and I liked the thought of them being my boyfriend/enbyfriend/whatever.

When I randomly bumped into them a couple months after meeting them, I was so fucking happy. I have a hard time explaining what I love about seeing them so much. And I’m not just delusional and enamored with everything about them because they’re physically attractive. I have never had a friend like them.

And I never got to see them. We randomly bumped into eachother sometimes but in between, it’s all people who are at best fucking boring, usually people who make me feel gross. So I started cooking up excuses to take the bus, and then the train, the 40 minutes to go see them. That’s where the end began.

Everyone including them tells me to move on and make other friends. I fucking have. I don’t like it. There’s nothing to move on to, and there’s nobody in this world like them. I have always dreamt of having a friend like them.

Everyone thinks I’m a fucking freak. I can’t fucking deal with the fact that they’re gone. That I haven’t seen them or talked to them or gotten a text from them in almost 8 months. I fucking hate this. I can’t deal with this. I just want my friend back and everyone thinks I’m a fucking freak. I want to bash my head against a wall. I wonder if they would be sad if I killed myself, I wonder if they would talk to me again if I were sober and went to therapy; I wonder because they won’t fucking talk to me. So I just sit here in my shithole fucked up tent hyperventilating and freaking out every 15 minutes. I have nothing motivating me to do fucking anything.

I just wanted to be like one of their “real” friends—the ones who are like actual organic characters in their life.

Nothing will bring them back.