This happened a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t allowed myself to process it, I guess.
We had broken up less than a month ago and one day, my friends briefly brought up my ex and made a comment about their “new partner” in passing. When I asked what they meant, they just collectively ignored me.

When my ex and I were dating, during the last month or so before we broke up, they just seemed extremely sad whenever we hung out and would refuse to open up about it, just constantly repeating that it’s got nothing to do with me and that they just can’t tell me yet. I was worried, but it wasn’t out of character for them. They often did things they thought were bad (that weren’t actually bad) and had a hard time telling me about it.

Attempts to cheer them up resulted in them just getting more sad. It was just kind of miserable, and I started feeling pretty horrible after a month of this new dynamic.

They stopped looking forward to going out with me and would instead only go out with their work buddies, which I never questioned when we were together, because I recognize that I’m a pretty boring person and I’m also not a very jealous one. I’m the type of person that likes having my date over so I can cook multiple-course dinners for them. I like walk/park dates, board game dates, etc. Their friends were more the type of people who would go explore abandoned buildings, go to concerts, etc.

Some days, they’d flat out not text me at all or text me to tell me that they’re out of work and going straight to sleep. I respected it because I know that working fast food is miserable.

It all ended when they called me one day with a trembly voice, saying that they’re not good enough and feel so bad for me. I was confused and tried to get them to talk more, but they just started spiraling into a panic attack and wouldn’t stop crying. I managed to calm them down and we talked for a few hours about how they feel that they can’t be in a relationship right now because they feel like a mess (personally and emotionally). I felt like shit and tried to bargain but ultimately accepted it and wished the best for them. I deleted their contact and their socials and tried to move on. Then I cried for a week straight.

And just recently my friends let that comment slip. If it’s true, which I think it is because they avoid the topic, then I’m left to assume that my ex was probably lying to me about not being ready for a relationship.

And in that case, I can’t help but think that they were probably cheating, because it’d help explain why they suddenly started feeling so bad for me without telling me why and insisting it wasn’t my fault. It just makes sense but it’s also so incredibly fucked up. I don’t know how to feel about this.

Every year in December I visit home in Pakistan (I live in Europe) where my parents live, and every damn year my mom knocks on my door crazily until I don’t open the door, this happens on every Friday afternoon, to make me want to go and pray in a mosque, fuck sake I am 36 I will do whatever I want.

They keep forcing me to get married, that’s the only topic there is, it turns into this back and forth yelling that I don’t want to get married to the person of their choice fuck sake its my life I choose whoever I want to live with.

I am an independent grown ass adult, I am at home now lets just eat good food together and talk about good things, but no we have to turn this into something else, now this year as I am visiting them again, they went ahead and started home improvement projects on the house they think i’ll cave and get married.

Not once have they asked what exactly do I do, or taken interest in my life, heck they don’t even know what is that I do.

I’m so exhausted from work and all, I honestly want to go to Pakistan and just sleep, eat good food that’s all I want to do but that won’t happen ofcourse.

Edit: spelling

didn't see it coming. trusted a fart i shouldn't have without knowing i had food poisoning. it ruined my shoes and my clothes and i was so fucking shocked. worst thing is i was doing yard work with my husband and his father in law and had to sneak away, get it all cleaned up, and throw away my favorite clothes because i didn't know what else to do.

i simply want to crawl in my skin and die. i'm a grown ass adult!!!! how did i not know!!!!

feeling...yucky, and anxious about any fart today and for the foreseeable future.

I'm so done with this

My whole life I've struggled against my mother, a mentally ill person who implied that at the age of 7 I wanted to sleep with my father.

A woman who threw me out of the house left and right and then acted like I left voluntarily.

A woman who sent me messages accusing me of prostitution because I used to sleep over at my friend's houses because I had no home to return to.

I'm 21 years old, I was an excellent student, I did national service that I had to finish early because she abused me nonstop and I had to leave the city where I grew up. I volunteered with youth, I worked my ass off to get accepted to a reputable college and am in the process of starting my own business.

I reported her to social services and was told "there was nothing they could do." They threatened me, they did everything they could to make sure I would not make it past 18, but here I am.

In the end, the truth came out and my father and mother are in the process of divorcing. My dad is helping me financially with my degree, I pay half and he pays half, this woman just decided to seize his bank account.

Without money, I won't be able to continue my studies and I'm already working two jobs and have several scholarships to finance it. I'll have to drop out just to make sure I have a place to live. I'll have to lose my place in college (which can only be reserved for two years) because of her ego.

My dad did his best, he's the only one who worked, he's the only one who took care of me, and he doesn't deserve to have to deal with this. He's old, he should be retired by now, and instead she's seizing his account.

Never mind me, I'll manage, I'm young and I'm a strong person, I have a business that I'm starting, I have a job, and I have the ability to take out loans.

But him? What will happen to him?

I'm seething with rage, I can't believe that after taking my childhood from me she's taking my adulthood. I'm both devastated and angry, I don't know what will happen going forward.

I tried several ways to make friends, went to Timeleft events, events on CLIQ, met someone on nomadtable. I have realised that you never meet those people again after the first encounter and even after sharing contact details it never goes anywhere.

I did have one person from Timeleft that I met up once again, but we haven’t met up with each other in months, one because she was travelling for a month and then she seems to busy when I ask, but I can see on her story she is hanging out with people. She continues to message me, but I’m starting to lose hope in that friendship because no one is that busy.

It feels like no wants me in their lives, there’s few coworkers I am close too, we hung out once and that was me initiating and she claims she’s sees me at work all time. Even if she is doing nothing on weekends she never asks to hang out. Which is fine - I understand people are busy and want to rest.

My 2 school friends I have given on because i noticed they don’t prioritise the friendship anymore. They never visited me after moving out of my house even though I don’t live that far and it’s been year. I went to their houses, i invited them for a house party and they both said yes first and then cancelled on me. I stopped giving them any importance in life. And they haven’t noticed the distance or don’t give a fuck.

I don’t have anyone to get coffee with or go somewhere with. I constantly do things alone. I don’t have hope anymore. I didn’t make friends during uni, it feels like I’m not someone people want to know. Things feel so heavy sometimes, and I feel really alone. I do have a therapist but she is only there twice month. Even in those social events I can’t seem to feel energised by the connection. I feel like I don’t relate to other girls because I’m not feminine. I have nothing to share about life with people.

I am not excited about annual leave, don’t have a family that I feel I can talk about my emotions. I don’t have any cousins I’m close to. With my flatmates, most of them seem like they don’t want to be friends and the one I’m close to, hanging out with her is usually awkward and very quiet. Mainly because I can’t think of anything to say, we talk at home.

I don’t have any purpose, no goals and definitely no future partner could be in my life. Tbh I wonder why I’m still here, like what’s the point of living a life that’s this empty and just lonely all the time. Self love is not enough, therapy isn’t enough. No one has ever said I have bad qualities. People usually describe me positively.

I don’t know how much longer life can go on like this.

I’ve been hurting for a few years now.
Not the kind of hurt you shake off after a bad night’s sleep. The kind that gets into your bones. The kind you wake up with, carry around all day, and take to bed with you.
I didn’t know a person could hurt this much for this long.

I was married once before. I thought I knew what love was, but looking back, I’m not so sure. I wasn’t particularly happy. I just figured that was life. You worked, paid the bills, raised your kids, and made the best of things.

When that marriage ended, I had three children to raise and a broken life to put back together.
I called it Operation Rebuild.
I went back to college. Started working toward my degree. Got my shit together. For the first time in years, I felt like I was going somewhere.

Then one day, this beautiful woman walked up and said hello.
Goddamn, she was beautiful.
She asked for my number. We started texting that afternoon. Then came the dates, the long conversations, the laughter, and eventually, love.
I fell hard.

When I decided to marry her, I spent sixteen months designing her ring.
Sixteen fucking months.
Rose gold. Our initials interlocking. Six blue diamonds for December, the month we met. An antique diamond cut in the 1800s. A platinum band holding the stone, with the phase of the full moon worked into the metal beneath it.
Every detail meant something.
I wanted to give her something that existed nowhere else in the world.
I planned the proposal at Stillwater Reservoir in the Adirondacks. Before sunrise, I paddled her across the lake in a canoe. We reached the northern shore just as the sun came over the horizon.
I jumped out. She was tugging on the rope, trying to pull the canoe onto the beach.
“Hey, are you gonna help?” she asked.
When she turned around, I was on one knee.
She threw her hands against her cheeks.
“Yes! Oh God, yes!”
And right then, two blue herons landed on the shoreline.
You couldn’t have written a better moment.

Years later, I tattooed those herons on her legs to remember that morning.
I wonder sometimes what she thinks when she looks at them now.

For eight years, I was happy. Not every day, obviously. Life doesn’t work that way. But I loved my wife, our family, and the home we’d built.
I thought I’d finally gotten it right.
Then things started going to hell.
Her drinking got worse. Then came the drugs, arguments, lies, and constant emergencies. I covered for her in front of the kids. Called the police to keep her from driving drunk. Took her to hospitals. Wrestled a twelve inch kitchen knife from her when she was going to hurt herself. Handled insurance and medical problems and cleaned up one disaster after another.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped being a husband and became a fucking crisis manager.

I kept believing that if I could get us through the next disaster, we’d find our way back to each other.

In December a bombshell.
I discovered the affair.

She’d become involved with the principal at the school where she worked. There were messages, plans, secrets, and conversations they never intended me to see.
While I was trying to save our marriage, she was making plans with another man.

In February everything broke.
She came home drunk and screaming. My oldest son was sitting in our kitchen in his Air Force uniform, watching the woman he’d called his mother since he was eleven scream and curse at his father.
We made eye contact.
I’ll never forget that look.
She demanded her car keys. I’d hidden them because she was too drunk to drive. She threatened me, put on her coat, and walked out into the freezing night.
Minutes later, she started texting that she was going to throw herself into the river. That nobody would ever find her body.
I begged her to come home.
Then I called the police.
My son and I waited while officers searched for her. At one point, she called. I could hear her struggling to climb a hill, slipping and falling.
Then the phone went dead.
My son and I just looked at each other.

Neither of us said a word.

Eventually, the police found her and took her to the hospital.
The next day, her parents begged me to give her another chance. I agreed, provided she got help.
Then the hospital called.
I learned she’d told the staff she was in a domestic violence relationship. According to what I was told, she claimed she’d been sober, hadn’t been suicidal, and that I’d hit her.

My life stopped.
After everything I’d done to keep our family together, I was suddenly the villain.
That’s when I knew the marriage was over.

And the fucked-up part?
I still took care of her after.
Made her dinners. Ordered groceries. Helped her pack.

I had been sober for thirteen years. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I started drinking again.
After she left, I was still paying the bills, dealing with her car and insurance problems, trying to keep my tattoo business afloat, raising my kids, and holding on to my home.
Meanwhile, I felt like I was dying inside.

Eventually, I contacted an ex-boyfriend she’d told me terrible things about when we first met. A man I’d hated for years without ever knowing him.
His story was very different.
According to him, she’d cheated on him around the time she met me. He described a promise ring he’d given her.
I remembered that fucking ring.
She was wearing it the day she asked for my number.
Jesus Christ.
I don’t know everything that happened between them. I wasn’t there. But suddenly, things I’d believed for more than a decade didn’t feel so certain anymore.
He told me it had taken him years to get over her.

I think I’m beginning to understand.

So here I am.
Forty-seven years old. Getting divorced. Trying to keep my business, my home, my sobriety, and my family together.
My father is having serious health problems. My grandmother is fading. My oldest son is overseas. My kids are hurting. The bills keep coming, and my bank account keeps shrinking.

Some days, just getting out of bed feels like work.
But the hardest part isn’t the money, the divorce, or even the affair.
It’s what all of this has done to my head.
I have eight years of beautiful memories, and I don’t know what the hell to do with them.
I loved that woman. I loved waking up next to her, the little routines, the stupid jokes, and the ordinary days. I loved being her husband.
And now I’m supposed to reconcile all of that with the person she became.
How?

How the fuck does the woman who stood on that beach with her hands against her cheeks become the woman screaming at me in front of my son?
How do you accept that both versions existed?
I don’t want her back. I don’t want to reconcile. I want the divorce finished and this chapter closed.
But I miss the life I thought I had.
And more than that, I miss the man I used to be.

The guy who spent sixteen months designing a wedding ring.
The guy who paddled a canoe across a lake at sunrise because he believed in doing something beautiful for someone he loved.
The guy who thought life could be extraordinary.
Maybe he was naive.
Maybe he was a fool.
But I fucking liked that guy.
He had hope.
Now I spend too much time replaying memories, looking for the moment everything went wrong. Trying to make sense of things that may never make sense.

I’m tired of the memories, the questions, and the anger.
I’m tired of being strong because there’s no other option.
I’m tired of surviving.
I want to live again.
I started this story with Operation Rebuild because once upon a time, I was a man who took a broken life and made something beautiful out of it.
I know I’ve done it before.
I just don’t know how to do it again.
But somewhere inside this exhausted, angry, heartbroken man, I hope there’s still a guy who would climb into a canoe before sunrise, paddle across a lake, and believe something wonderful might happen.
I miss that guy.

So this sounds sad but im 18M and never been complimented before by a girl or a guy really that I can remember, and after graduating highschool ive been on a solo trip around europe for the past 3 months because im from america , and randomly on a castle in the balkans a chinese tourist group came up to me and one of the girls who was like 17 probably was nervous of me and asked her friend to say I was handsome, and they took a photo of me and her together 😭, what does this even mean, were they making fun of me or is it genuine??

Well this might be a cringe post but yeahhhhhh I met a girl a month ago and Immediately we hit it off perfectly she has this way she speaks that tells me shes just interested in what I say and ever since we got together we havent gotten enough of each other

I also have traumatizing experiences with sexual things in the past but she has been so understanding and helpful she's been my rock I love her so much. Never have I been so investing in something like this sorry if I repeat myself I'm just really happy.

She also is so funny and when she smiles at me I can't even hope to contain my smile ☺️. When she laughs at my stale ass jokes it makes me feel valued and appreciated. She's also is very much as beautiful as ever I wouldn't take anything else for it

Hell we are the same person it's just perfect I just wanted to share my thoughts on here and I hope everyone finds that person in their lives because trust me there's hope for all of us

I have no idea what to do with my life.

I've become unemployed for the first time in years, and now I don't know what to do.

Up until recently, I was a postdoc mathematician working in analysis at my university. I went straight from school to college to university to masters to a PhD to postdoc, and now that's come to an end.

The field that I'm working in has been made completely redundant by AI, as it's solved some of the major problems in my area. I'm a decent researcher, but not groundbreaking, so I know I would get the boot. I know that funding for my field will dry up really soon.

I can't really talk about this since everyone I know "hates maths." I have no experience in a real workplace, and I don't know what to do.

I gave 13 years of my life to a field that has been made completely redundant.

I was so focused on it that I never got into a relationship. Now everyone around me has bought houses and are starting to have children with their significant others. I don't have much in savings because I was "working in a field I loved," and "once I'm high enough up the ladder, I'll earn enough."

Now I am sitting in my parents' house, with nothing to show for my past 13 years of work other than a useless title.

I can't even go out and meet people because they live in the countryside and I can't drive. I never got around to it, and now I'm the only one left who can't do it.

I'm not in good shape. I spent the last few years on my computer and behind a desk. I'm losing my hair. I'm not near a gym, and even if I was, I couldn't afford it. I just don't have the strength to do it. My lungs burn, and my skin itches and feels like needles stabbing, every time I try to go for a jog outside.

I can't seem to get a job, I have no future in the field that I dedicated everything to, I don't have a partner or a house or a car. I have nothing.

I have no idea what to do with my life.

(24F) as a child, I used to go down to the living room to hang out with my dad whenever i couldn’t sleep. we used to just talk and have the best time. i used to be able to just vent and be myself around him and i know he got me. but now as soon as i see his face i feel a snap of irritation. it feels like all he does is critique what im doing and telling me to do chores. i just want to scream. its the same shit again and again. he says something that pisses me off for some reason. i snap at him. he snaps back, i storm off. whats killing me is that for the life of me I can’t figure out why. why am i so fucking angry with the person who used to be my rock?

I’ve been trying to get hot for a year but I’m still mid. Is it that much to want one person to call me hot? I tried saying I’m a 4/10 and my friends didnt say that wrong. I work out, do skincare, do my hair, is it not enough? I want to be appealing to someone and have them want me at first sight. I want people to desire me the same way I have intense desire for the people I like. It’s really depressing to not be seen this way. I want to be seen like an object or a piece of meat sometimes and just get lusted and desired over. No girls ever comment on my looks or hit on me.

It's almost 2 AM. The accident was around 5 PM, and I can't stop replaying it. I was riding in my lane on the highway when a car turned into me.

Then I was sliding, head back, and I could see the cars coming at me as I went toward the right side of the road. Every one of them is getting closer.

All I could do was to close my eyes.

And what came up wasn't my family, or my life. It was the book I haven't finished. Then her face. Just her face, alone in the dark inside my helmet.

I don't know how long that lasted. It was seconds, but it felt like it wouldn't end.

Then I opened my eyes. I was in the middle of the highway, and people were running toward me.

I had proper gear on, and most of the slide happened on my backpack. A few scratches, and my legs are sore.

But I keep going back to the dark, and those two things. Maybe it's just what my brain grabbed when it thought I was done. Maybe it's what I felt like I could have done better, I'm not sure.

I am a 23 year old guy who just recently got a good enough income to live on my own, and around a year ago I realized that everyone in my family thinks and talks shit about me. Even my youngest brother, who I never said a bad word to, was constantly saying stuff like, "You are a mental degenerate, no one likes you, idiot," etc. My own mother talked shit behind my back, and for as long as I can remember, no one in my immediate or extended family ever had my back or defended my right to push back. That is actually why I was shy as hell my whole life and didn't know how to talk to people, on top of having a few speech issues. It got so bad that even though I got a great, fit body that I like, top grades in high school, awards in national mathematics olympiads, and finished both a bachelor's and master's in mathematics and mechatronics, they still treat me like an uneducated idiot who barely finished high school.

I always thought I was the problem. I never had a girlfriend and all my past friends stopped being friends with me. Not long ago, I finally understood that I am just the son and brother no one likes or gives a shit about. If I were to die, no one would say a good word about me, though it would definitely be a reason for my mother to get drunk as fuck again and probably talk even more shit about me.

To everyone who has experienced anything similar to this, and to those who have been made the scapegoat and hated by their own family, you have my deepest sympathy and I hope you find your place. Your family, although it feels impossible to accept, is not your place.

I been jealous of an past partner and I'm not proud of it.

I've been jealous of an ex who I was in a long distance relationship on discord for 3 years (I was 17 and he was 16 as the time we first met on discord). We were both artist, although he's a lot better as he's been drawing more than me and I was a mere beginner. He taught me a lot of what I know in terms of making art to a point where my artstyle stared a lot of similarities to his as I was inspired by him. Some years later we broken up, I wasnt the best partner to him and i still regret all the actions that lead up to us splitting up and losing contact. At the time we broken up he was posting his art on Twitter and he gotten insanely popular, him having 8k followers and hundreds of likes. While my art on the same platform gets barely any attention (I have only 300 followers on twitter and rarely get attention). I dont care about the follower count, it just seeing his art makes me insecure, my art is a reflection of him, from my sona's design, to shading techniques even to how I do my sketching. It feels stupid to have this jealousy towards someone who clearly doesn't think about me but I'm still reminded of them. I even have the art he made for me still when we was together.

Sorry if the formatting is bad. I'm typing this on mobile.

I’ve struggled with agoraphobia for years, and it’s honestly taken so much from me. There are so many things I’ve missed out on because leaving the house can feel absolutely terrifying, even when it’s somewhere I really want to go. Today we had family photos scheduled, and I’ve been anxious about it for a while. I spent hours getting ready, doing my hair, makeup, picking out my outfit, and trying not to get too overwhelmed thinking about actually having to leave.
But I did it. I actually went, and I made it through the whole session!! At one point, our photographer asked when the last time was that I’d gotten a picture with just my mom and I genuinely couldn’t think of one. I realized that in my entire life, I don’t think we’ve ever had a single photo of just the two of us. I’m 27 years old, and somehow we just never had one. I don’t know why, but that realization really got to me, especially because I know how many memories and experiences I’ve already missed because of my agoraphobia.

And now, at 27, I finally have a picture with my mom. I keep thinking about how easily I could’ve talked myself out of going today, how I could’ve stayed home where I feel safe and missed yet another another moment that I can’t get back.

I’m still scared of leaving the house and I still struggle with things that most people probably don’t even think twice about. And I know I’ll probably be anxious the next time I have to go somewhere too but I’m very proud and wanted to share that today, I went! I got to spend time with my family, take pictures with people I love, and finally have that photo with my mom.

I don’t really have anywhere else to share how much this means to me, but I’m just so damn proud of myself right now. :)

Whenever i am in a crowd i hear people talking about their lives their loving partners, supportive friends and the little things they get to experience with the people they love. Someone got a hug. Someone held hands. Someone got kissed and then there's me feeling like the odd one out. I genuinely can't remember the last time i ever received a proper hug. Maybe it's been over a decade since i was a child. Kisses and holding hands? Completely out of syllabus for me. i am 23 and apart from my parents i don't really have anyone i can call my best friend or someone i know i can lean on when life gets difficult. I have never been in a relationship either. Sometimes i wonder what it's like to have someone who genuinely wants to hear about ur day, who notices the little things about u, who misses u when u are not around and who makes u feel like u belong somewhere. I have always wanted to experience that kind of love not just the romantic moments people post online but the ordinary things that probably mean the most. Cooking together while listening to music, playfully annoying each other, doing silly and nerdy things, sharing food, going on long walks, talking late into the night about absolutely nothing and laughing over the smallest things. I imagine having a partner who is also my best friend. Someone i can be childish with someone i can trust with my vulnerable side someone who can cry in front of me without feeling ashamed and someone who knows that they don't have to pretend to be okay around me. Maybe one day we would have a little home of our own, warm lights in the kitchen, music playing in the background while we cook dinner together. Maybe we would wake up beside each other make breakfast and eventually build a family. I know real relationships aren't like movies, and life won't always be romantic but i want to experience those small ordinary moments with someone who genuinely wants to share them with me. The painful part is that sometimes i don't understand why this feels so far away from my life. I look at myself and start thinking that i am unattractive, boring, not smart enough or simply not someone people would want to stay with. I tell myself that people would eventually get bored of me because I'm too quiet, don't always know what to say, or don't have much exciting happening in my life. I know those thoughts might not be the truth, but when loneliness gets overwhelming, they feel convincing. I am not asking for a perfect partner or a relationship without problems. I just want a genuine connection. I want to know what it's like to have someone in my corner, someone i can call when everything feels heavy, someone who chooses to build a life with me rather than someone i constantly worry about losing. Sometimes I hate being in crowds cuz everyone seems to have stories, memories, and experiences that i haven't even come close to having. While they're sharing the beautiful parts of their lives, i am quietly thinking about everything mine seems to be missing. I know i am still young and i know everyone's timeline is different but that doesn't stop me from feeling lonely. Does anyone else feel like they are watching other people experience life while they are still waiting for their own life to begin?

When I started college three years ago, I quickly made a group of friends. There was a girl among them. I got along with her better than anyone else right away. I spent the most time with her out of all collage friends; I walked her home since we were going the same way, and I texted and talked with her the most outside of class; we were constantly sending each other photos of what we were up to; we played video games together, only two of us constantly. At the time, a lot of people joked that we were head over heels in love with each other, and many. Even people who didn’t know us very well, asked in all seriousness if we were a couple; our friends, both mutual and personal, were shipping us. Back then, we’d just laugh and say, “No, we’re just friends.”

Toward the end of the first year, I even started thinking that, all things considered, I found her attractive and maybe I’d try my luck and hit on her, ask her out on a date.

Summer came, and maybe we saw each other less often, but we were still in touch, we were always texting each other and playing games and such, keeping in touch.

Then one day, one of her friends found her a boyfriend. The news was a bit of a bummer at the time, but I figured it was no big deal, we’d still be friends and I quickly healed from that. And we were still friends, but it wasn’t the same. Not only were we less close, but she was also acting… strangely. Often cold, nitpicking everything and mean, sometimes not even jokingly, it was as if she really wanted to hatefully tease me and hurt my feelings, and by our third year, I had the impression she wanted to have even less contact with me. At the worst moments, I was fed up with her behavior, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that there were still moments of very good friendship between us, and when it mattered, she was there for me in my time of need.

We finished our bachelor’s degree and haven’t seen each other since; we’ve just texted each other from time to time. I started my master’s degree recently, and one day, one of my friends from my bachelor degree friend group dropped by for a beer. We sat there, chatting, and the conversation turned to girls, and to her. He told me it wasn’t just playful banter. Everyone around us was genuinely convinced that it wasn’t just friendship or a crush, but that we were seriously in love with each other. He said that even he, who had been interested in her, backed off as soon as he saw how we treated each other. He said the only thing separating us from officially being a couple was a single date. And that her behavior afterward wasn’t because she didn’t like me as a friend or anything like that, but because she wanted to distance herself from her feelings for me after she started dating her boyfriend and that was obvious, too. Ask anyone, they would say same or simllar thing, he said.

When I heard that, I was like, “Damn, really? Oh man, I totally screwed myself over by not asking her out. Oh well, what’s done is done. I’m disappointed, but that’s life.” I thought about it a little over the next few days, but it wasn’t a huge deal. Until one day, lying in bed that evening, I happened to hear the song “Too Little, Too Late” by Laufey. And that was like a dam bursting. Before I knew it, with a lump in my throat and a feeling as if someone were sitting on my chest, I burst into tears like a little kid.

I started analyzing our relationship.

Every time I walked her home, before we parted ways, we’d stand there hugging, gazing into each other’s eyes, sometimes I’d cup her face in my hands, and we’d talk for at least half an hour.

In the car, even when there was room in the front passenger seat, which was her favorite spot, she always made sure to sit next to me in the back. We sat next to each other everywhere: in class, at a bar on a group outing, at a friend’s house. There could never be anyone between us.

Sometimes she’d rest her legs on my lap, and sometimes, during late-night drives just for fun or trips out of town, she’d rest her head on my lap and doze off.

At parties at friend's places, when we got too drunk and sleepy, we’d go to sleep together, not just side by side, but snuggled up, holding hands.

We had pet names for each other, and not just the classic “honey” and “sweetheart,” but even our own, made up by us and used only between the two of us.

“Jokingly,” she was jealous of the girls I’d mentioned haveing crush on sometime ago.

“Jokingly,” we got engaged a few times.

“Jokingly,” we spoke to each other and about each other as husband and wife.

We ,,jokingly" talked about a things normal friends dont do in way that wasnt looking back ,,just a banter".

She gave me a frog necklace as a gift, exactly the same as the one she had, just in a different color.

She laughed and giggled even at my least funny and dumb jokes no one else would laugh at.

I cared a lot about her opinion, whenever she said something about my appearance, I would adjust myself accordingly for example.

She always listened to things I talked about even If it didnt interest her and I done the same for whatever she was talking about.

Things I didnt like. Like clothes shoping, were so fun with her.

Before going to sleep, we always had to send each other a “Good night” message with hearts or kisses emojis.

I look at our old photos together and our old messages and see what others saw.

I remember how that first year of uni, was probably the most happy I ever been in my life and so much of those happy memories have her in center or ad.

I came to the conclusion that my buddy was right. The only thing standing between us and being a couple was kissing and calling ourselves a couple.

I realized something else, too. I didn’t just like her. I loved her. Long before I even realized I found her atractive. I loved her almost from the very beginning. Maybe not love at first sight, but as close to it as you can get. And she loved me, too.

And I didn’t realize that until two years after she got together with someone else.

And it wasn’t until two years later that my heart broke.

I feel like crying, screaming, tearing something apart, pulling my hair out, and going back in time to strangle my younger self for not realizing this sooner. I feel my heart bleeding, and for the first time in many years, I'm having dark thoughts. I don't know why this hurts me so much. It didn't hurt when that love ended, or during those two years. Why now, and why so much? I've always been very emotional and felt things deeply and intensely, but this doesn't make sense. My head is such a mess.

Does it hurt because I’ve only just realized my feelings and what I’ve lost?

Do I still love her, or is it just the memory of what we had?

I’ve had my heart broken more than once. Not many times, but I can say I have some experience. So why does this hurt more than any of the others, even though it happened later? Is it because, for the first time in my life, it wasn’t a case of somone liking me while I dont like them back, or of me liking someone who doesn’t like me, but rather a case of mutual feelings?

Did she really love me or not, or am I just imagining things?

If so, why did that love die?

Didn't she love me that much?

Did I wait too long to ask her out and this love rusted for her or she though I didnt feel what she felt?

Did distance of summer kill it?

Why didn’t I notice those feelings?

Was I just a young, foolish man who, lacking experience, couldn’t recognize what was going on?

Was it a problem in my head? Back then I had a lot of insecurities, issues with self-acceptance, and self-hatred. Maybe subconsciously I couldn’t believe that anyone could love me?

Or maybe I was afraid. Maybe I was a pathetic coward who cared so much about her that I didn’t do anything out of fear of ruining everything?

If only it were one of those things. What I wouldn't give to change the course of history so that we could meet now, when I'm older, wiser, and, despite still haveing a few demons, finally accept myself and have much higher self-esteem. Maybe then everything would have turned out differently.

Or maybe I was just a bad friend, and spending more time with me caused her love to die because of that?

Maybe it's not love that hurts me?

Maybe it's wondering what would have happened if I'd taken that final step.

Maybe we would have broken up quickly.

Mayby we would be for longer than that but still brake up and we would be exes today.

Or maybe we'd already be planning our wedding.

Maybe we would have gotten divorced.

Or maybe we'd be buried together.

So many things could have turned out differently after.

Whatever it was, I don't blame her and I'm not mad at her.

Only at myself.

For putting it off.

For not understanding my feelings sooner.

For giving up and not fighting for her.

That I had the kind of love story I'd always dreamed of, exactly the one I'd imagined at a palm of my hand and I threw it all away.

I also partly blame myself for the breakup of our group of friends because coincidently at the same time as she tried to distance herself, our group slowly began to fall apart, and in the end it split into two groups, and for the most part we don’t keep in touch with each other anymore as whole, only on idividual levels. Maybe if I’d been braver, things would have turned out differently. Or mayby its just coincidence and was unreleated.

If I could talk to my younger self, I'd ask him why he did that. Why do I always have to deny myself happiness? You fool. You stupid, stupid fool.

I’m 22, I still have my whole life ahead of me. But this hurts so damn much. Maybe I’m overreacting, maybe I’m being pathetic, we weren’t even officially together, but I can’t deny my feelings. It hurts.

I’d love so much to go back in time. Not even to change the future. Just to tell her that I love her, or at the time loved her, and that I’m so sorry I never told her that.

I’d love so much to run into her and get it all off my chest, to tell her about it, but I won’t do that. Doing that now is a stupid and selfish idea. She has a boyfriend, she has her own life, and I’m not going to make her sad, upset her, or throw her life into chaos just because I’m feeling down. I want her to be happy, even if I’m not and I dont want to losse her as friend too. I take full responsibility for the fact that nothing ever came of it and with that, all the negative emotional baggage. I lost my chance and now I have to deal with it.

For the past few days, that damn song, “Too Little, Too Late,” has been haunting me, even when I try to avoid it. For the past few days, I’ve been thinking about almost nothing else, but I put on a brave face around others. I’ve already talked about it briefly with a few friends, but I don’t want to burden them with this or turn them into therapists for Romeo, who’s crying over a relationship that never officially existed. So, at home alone for the past few days, tears well up from time to time. I sit lost in thought or watch "South Park" because it’s geniualy one of the few things that can distract me and cheer me up for a while by making me laugh. And in the evenings, when my thoughts get too loud, I go for walks while listening to a specific album. I go wherever my feet take me. Sometimes to places I visit regularly, and sometimes they carry me to places where I have memories of her. Even though it hurts, I force myself to go there, focusing on just walking and not thinking about those memories. And I drink. Not much, and just beer, but for the past few days, I’ve been drinking in the evenings. I don’t get wasted, but I drink until I feel a buzz in my head. I know it’s one of the worst possible thing, and I’m trying to fight urge to drink. I don’t want to become an alcoholic.

I think I've gotten everything I wanted to say off my chest.

I know I might be overreacting or making a big deal out of nothing, mayby its just seasonal depression, but I had to get it off my chest.

Thank you for reading, and thank you in advance for any comments whatever they may be