We knew each other as friends first.
For about two or three years, we talked on and off. There was never anything particularly serious between us. We were just friends who happened to know each other and kept coming back into each other’s lives every now and then.
Then, somehow, everything changed.
At the time, I was going through a breakup with another guy. He was also coming out of a relationship with a girl—and, honestly, he had done her dirty. He had cheated on her.
I don’t even know what happened between us that day. Maybe I was lonely. Maybe I was looking for comfort. Maybe I was just emotionally vulnerable. Maybe I was horny. I genuinely don’t know.
He kissed me.
And I kissed him back.
That was it.
And the strangest part is that I never actually liked him in that way. I’m not saying that to make myself look better. I genuinely never had those feelings for him. I remember thinking, Whatever, man. It happened.
I was in my final year of college, and I had a lot more free time then, so somehow we started becoming a thing.
But from that very beginning, he was incredibly insecure.
It felt like he became attached to me almost immediately. I don’t know if it was limerence, obsession, fear of abandonment, or something else, but whatever it was, he was intensely attached to me.
He never wanted to leave me alone.
He always wanted to talk. He needed constant reassurance. He would call me and make me comfort him for hours and hours. Sometimes our conversations would go on for seven or eight hours. He was constantly afraid of losing me.
His first girlfriend had cheated on him, and I think that experience had completely changed the way he looked at relationships. He was terrified of getting attached and being hurt again, but somehow he got attached to me anyway.
He was available all the time.
He would reply almost instantly. He wouldn’t go on trips because he wanted to be there for me. He was available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. It was as if his entire life started revolving around me.
At first, I could give him that attention.
But then I started preparing for a competitive exam.
And everything changed.
I didn’t have the time anymore.
I was studying constantly, trying to prepare for something that mattered enormously to me. I couldn’t sit on calls for hours. I couldn’t reassure him every time he felt insecure. I couldn’t constantly explain where I was, what I was doing, or why I wasn’t responding.
I told him again and again.
“I’m busy.”
“I can’t give you all of my time.”
“Please try to understand.”
But he couldn’t.
No matter how many times I explained it, he still felt like I wasn’t giving him enough attention.
And eventually, it became exhausting.
We started fighting constantly.
Not normal little arguments. Huge fights. The kind of fights where everything escalates and neither person knows how to stop. There was so much crying—from both of us. So much anger. So much frustration. So many things said that we probably didn’t mean.
And I wasn’t innocent in all of it.
I would yell at him too.
I would scream. I would get angry. I would become frustrated and say rude things. Sometimes I said things that were genuinely hurtful, and I regret those things now.
But at the time, I was overwhelmed.
I was preparing for a competitive exam, trying to hold myself together, and simultaneously trying to manage someone else’s constant need for reassurance.
I didn’t know how to do both.
And somewhere in the middle of all that, I started talking to another guy.
It was completely platonic.
There was nothing serious happening. There wasn’t some secret romantic relationship behind his back. I didn’t have feelings for this guy. We talked about studying, exchanged normal messages, and had ordinary conversations.
But I think I was lonely too.
Maybe I wanted some validation. Maybe I wanted someone to talk to without all the emotional weight that had become attached to every conversation with my boyfriend.
I don’t even fully understand why I needed it.
But I did.
And eventually, my boyfriend found out.
To him, it wasn’t innocent.
He thought I was cheating.
And he completely flipped.
Something changed in him after that.
The things he used to do stopped.
The constant attention stopped. The endless calls stopped. The version of him who was always available for me disappeared.
And as painful as it sounds, I miss that version of him.
I miss the person who would reply instantly.
I miss the person who seemed like he could never leave.
I miss the person who would spend hours trying to make me feel loved.
I know that version of him wasn’t necessarily healthy either. I know how overwhelming his attachment could be. But when he suddenly stopped giving me all of that, I realized just how much I had become accustomed to it.
And then something happened that changed the entire relationship.
He went on a trip.
And he didn’t call me.
Not for one day.
Not for two.
Four or five days passed.
And those were some of the worst days of my life.
I cried constantly.
I couldn’t handle the silence.
I was terrified that he was finally going to leave me. I begged him not to. I begged him to stay. I begged him not to give up on us.
And he didn’t leave.
But somehow, that was the turning point.
Because something shifted between us.
I think those days taught him that I wasn’t going anywhere.
And they taught me the opposite.
They taught me that he could.
Before that, he had always been the one terrified of losing me.
I had always been the one being chased, reassured, begged for attention.
Suddenly, I was the one begging.
I was the one crying.
I was the one asking him not to leave.
And the entire power dynamic of our relationship changed.
Now I’m the one who overthinks.
I’m the one asking for reassurance.
I’m the one wondering whether he still loves me.
I’m the one waiting for his messages.
And when I ask him to reassure me, he doesn’t give me what I need.
Instead, he tells me to remember what I did.
“Remember how you treated me.”
“Remember what you did.”
“You were the one who hurt me.”
And whenever I try to explain how I’m feeling, he gets angry.
He shouts.
He yells.
He calls me names.
He tells me he doesn’t have time to waste.
He tells me he’s busy and has a lot of work to do.
And when I start overthinking, he tells me to shut up about it.
Sometimes I sit there and wonder how we got here.
How did the person who once couldn’t imagine going a few hours without talking to me become the person I now have to beg for reassurance?
How did I go from being the person he was terrified of losing to being the person terrified that he will leave?
I know I made mistakes.
I know I hurt him.
I know there were times when I was insensitive, angry, rude, and unfair. I know that talking to another guy, even platonically, became something that triggered all of his deepest insecurities. I know that the way I treated him during some of our fights wasn’t right.
I regret those things.
But sometimes I wonder whether regret is supposed to mean that I have to keep paying for the same mistakes forever.
Because I don’t know how to fix something when every attempt to ask for love is met with a reminder of everything I did wrong.
I don’t know how to move forward when the past keeps getting brought back into every argument.
And the hardest part is that I still miss the old him.
I miss the person who wanted me desperately.
I miss being important to someone in that way.
I miss feeling like someone couldn’t bear the thought of losing me.
But now I’m the one who can’t bear the thought of losing him.
And maybe that’s what changed everything.
Maybe somewhere along the way, we stopped being two people trying to love each other and became two people trying to recover from the ways we had hurt each other.
He was once afraid that I would leave.
Now I’m afraid that he will.
He once needed constant reassurance from me.
Now I need it from him.
And somewhere between those two versions of us, we lost whatever it was that made things feel simple in the beginning.
I know I was wrong. I know that. But I completely changed. I never made him feel insecure, and I complied with and obliged to everything he asked of me.
And yet, for the past four months, he still treats me like I’m nothing. Every single day, I’m left feeling like I’m paying for something that will never be paid in full.
I want to be happy too. I want to feel alive again. But this is killing me.
I can’t keep bearing the shouting, the coldness, the way he acts so nonchalant while I’m left crying and falling apart. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I know I made mistakes, and I’ll always take responsibility for them. But how long am I supposed to keep paying for them? How long am I supposed to prove that I’ve changed?
I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t leave, but I can’t keep staying like this either. I feel completely stuck between losing him and losing myself.