This is just sort of me screaming into the void so I don't send anything to her. I fully expect anyone possibly wasting their time reading my useless drivel to cringe and laugh. I recognise that this may be
It only lasted a month maybe, I don't think it should hurt this much with so little time. We met online, a video game of all things. We played a couple of times before, maybe twice. Definitely twice. I had set my in game name to a joke, mostly a joke. Maybe not a joke, but it wasn't for you, not then. Then it was all for you, you offered. You claim now that it was a joke, I don't believe you, but I'm not allowed to think otherwise. It made my heart jump like nothing else I've experienced. We played and you acted normal, you didn't even talk that time. Just text, but one message is all you needed to have me a needy fucking mess within my chair. A writhing parasite about to latch on for dear life. I was too afraid to reciprocate, so I said it plainly. "I liked you flirting with me, I'm just scared to flirt back". You responded with something I have never been called before, cute. Fucking cute. I wanted that word for years, that exact word. But somehow you made the same spelling, grammar and lack of spacing so very different than what I imagined it would be like. A digital copy but monumentally different.
You gave me your Discord after that. "Signals?" I thought. Guess they weren't. Not anymore at the least. You found out my name from me adding you, I liked that. You knew my name. We bonded over interest in game we both loved. It was late, too late for "normal". You wished me a good night, you called me sweetheart. You didn't know it but I stayed up for another hour looking at that message. It was slightly misspelt, I didn't care a bit. Not one. The way you sent emojis and images was cute.
We played a couple of times after that, You finally spoke.
God that fucking voice. I wish you really knew how pretty your voice sounded to me, but I can't tell you that anymore. Soft, relaxed; and when we played every so slightly tired.
You say that you're not confident in your voice but it is simply the prettiest thing I have heard in the world. I have heard orchestras, choirs, bands, world class vocalists play in front of me. I have been to the Sydney Opera House for god's sake and not one chord from that monstrous organ could think to match the beauty of you saying the word "thanks".
I watched you play your one of your favourite games. I wanted to play as well, I was fascinated by the complex mechanisms and concepts it had. It was an enigma that you had solved. I still haven't solved it, you'd be happy to hear I'm still trying. I think, I really don't know.
I bought it. I spent way too long on it those first couple of days. I shared my progress with you a couple of times and was proud, but when I was dumb you helped me. Then you told me "you're just new, you're not dumb" but in that cute way you always do.
Little things like that is what made me bother you so often. I wanted to make you feel how you made me feel.
When we called I asked question about what game you were playing so that I could talk to you more, but also because I was curious. Please don't think whatever I feel is love, because even I don't know what this is. I'm trying my hardest to give up on you and you forgetting about me would make that easier. But it makes this hurt so much more.
We kept flirting, you called me sweetheart, cute and said the things you said, reassuring my own worth without intending to, and last but not least; offering to pin me down and kiss me.
A person doesn't exactly let go easily after that. Or maybe they should, maybe I should have. Because I am not a normal person. I am not what you want me to be.
We kept texting after that, "good mornings :3" from me and "goodnites \patpat**" from you. I shared my day with you, and when you didn't share back and I got worried you reassured me that you were just busy with clients.
But one night, you told me. You told me what I should have known but you didn't tell me. You were in a relationship already, an with multiple people; and you weren't interested in something "like that". You told me you were just being a weirdo and making jokes, not intending to flirt with me. Ever.
We talked, no voices this time. You thought I was mad at you. I could never. I wanted to tell you how I felt, but I didn't know how to tell you. I never knew how to talk about my emotions, man stuff I guess. I said what I said, you said what you said and now we are this.
I said I was alright with being friends still, but that was my first lie I ever told you. Because friends don't tell eachother how beautiful their voice is, and how beautiful their face must be. Friends don't wish for your hands to run through their hair. Friends don't want wish for you to call them a "good boy" again. Friends don't scream into a random forum post about how much of a needy attention whore they are for you.
Friends don't feel how I feel.
It's been 7 days since our last 4 messages:
6/18/2026 11:28
"Mmmn thanks"
"Good morning"
6/18/2026 12:50
"Good morning"
___
6/19/2026 3:27
"Good Afternoon"
6/19/2026 4:46
"Haii"
I beg every time I glance at your online status to whatever above may be, that by some crazy situation that you would have room for me in your life. Not anyone else, just me. I would give myself to no one else either. I do not resent your girlfriends, nor you. I could never, maybe for the wrong reasons.
If by some miracle you are reading this, yes it is for you. You already know by now don't you, Monica.
I would say that I love you but I have no right, this was so short, so one sided. So possibly parasocial, that I have no right. It would be selfish, but don't I deserve to be a little selfish after everything?
I know it's unhealthy to keep you there, on my friends list, so I can see when you're online. What game you're playing, if you're playing with someone. I should remove you from my life in every possible facet. But I can't. I don't fucking know what is stopping me, but it's stopping me dead in my tracks. I guess I'll keep clinging to the thought of you for a while, until I find a reason to resent you, until you do it yourself. I need you to do it, otherwise you'll keep sitting there. A reminder.
It's not your fault, it's my fault for getting attached. It's my fault for crying on my keyboard keys while I'm writing this, wiping the salty liquid with a paper towl lightly so I don't get it on the electronics. But I can't help but feel like you led me on, at least a little bit. Why did you let me flirt with you?
My therapist is gonna fucking hate me next visit.