Tag Archive | gratitude

The trouble with the rat race πŸ–€{confession session}

I don’t want some pretty face to tell me pretty lies πŸ–€

Trigger warning: ⚠️ body image/mental health/s*icidal ideation…nothing very graphic, just briefly mentioned, that’s not what this post is about, there is quite a bit about body image/talk though that could be very triggering to some, I would suggest not reading it if you’re someone with serious body image issues because it’s nothing positive or inspiring and is not even my experience, just me mentioning someone else’s experience with it

Censored words are in case I share on FB where we can get our accounts suspended or because the words can be triggering for someone with trauma history.

If I could go back, do it again, I’d be someone you could call friend, please, please believe that I’m sorry. πŸ–€

It’s a confession session!

This is one of the more unpleasant things about me most people don’t know about. I am APPALLED with myself for this.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I feel I want to put it “out there” for some sense of something, not sure if it’s to cleanse my conscience or whatever. Lol It is something that nags me on occasion. It’s something that was wrong on so many levels or in so many aspects. It’s something that I wish never happened and I feel guilty about when I think of it. It’s only when I think of it, not a general thing, and I don’t think of it a lot. But unfortunately I still have much of this fake relationship in writing online. I haven’t looked at our conversations for years after we ended our friendship and rarely thought about it. But one day a few years ago, I went back and skimmed through our old conversations and was APPALLED with myself. There have been occasions shortly after I revisited our conversations where it kept me up all night. After this, this experience has stuck with me and resurfaces in my mind now & again. I forgot so much of what I did til I read our messages. I cringe so hard.

Once something is out there, it’s out there. I wish I could delete the whole thing, the whole relationship and all evidence of it, not because it’s unpleasant or unkind or whatever but because it’s so fake and was never real. I don’t mind that my cruel messages are still out there because I felt that all sincerely when I wrote and sent it. The cruelty was real. But the fake stuff I wish was gone. Lol She told me she kept everything, screencaptures and all, of my cruel messages, and that she would keep it forever to remember what kind of person I am. I don’t think I would say I was a cruel person. But I did choose to be cruel in the moments I was. What I regret more though is the fakeness. The false flattery, the empty I love you’s, I need you’s, the meaningless gifts, the whole show I put on for ten years…

Don’t fear the enemy who att*cks you, but the fake friend who hugs you.

I was that fake friend.

I’m embarrassed about who I chose to be back then. But it was ages ago. It was 10+ years ago, and I was 20 something years young.

I recently was looking at writing prompts while in a creative mood, and one was to share something that could make us look like a bad person or something unpleasant/unkind we once did.

I thought of many years ago when I was in a ten year long ongoing frenemy situation with a girl I met as a teenager.

When I met her, I currently had no real friendships. I had kids to talk to at lunch in school and chat online with, once in a while walk around with after school. But they were casual friends, not really general friends or anything of substance, and never anything that carried out of the context of school. I longed for a real friend. I did have good friends for a while and loved them, but we had very different lifestyles, and I felt we were incompatible. At fifteen years old I chose to stop being an active friend to them. We talked online once in a while and saw each other around, giving each other hugs here and there, still, but no longer hung out in person. They were into drugs and criminal activity (but were the kindest people you could ever meet), I wasn’t into all that and just felt our friendship wasn’t going to really work out. I never judged them or anything, just couldn’t be involved with that. I was into watching movies and going to restaurants and shopping, playing board games and cards. My friends were into alcohol, other drugs, stealing, breaking into soda machines, cutting school, sneaking out at night, being delinquents….I did not care, but I couldn’t relate.

At sixteen years old, a casual acquaintance of mine introduced me to her new friend. We instantly clicked and became good friends. She was funny, outgoing, bubbly…and she was a “good girl” like me, never touched alcohol or a cigarette or cut school or anything. She loved clothes and makeup and shopping like me. We were almost identical in personality except she was outgoing and bubbly while I was quiet and reserved. She also cursed while I did not. She said things like hell and sh!t and damn and called other girls b!tches and s*uts (I began to do this just to impress her, and it felt so unnatural and wrong to me). She wouldn’t say f*ck though. She was religious and pro-life, she knew I’m an atheist and judged me for it. I did not use the word “atheist” back then but did not believe in the whole god stuff. She judged me for not going to church and not praying. To her, I began to pretend like I did believe in it to a point, so she wouldn’t think less of me. As adults, I pretended to be pro-life so she would think more of me. She did eventually have kids but at one point was told she may never because of health conditions and weight problems that could affect her heart and stuff. She said it wasn’t ok that women who are lucky enough to be able to have kids can just “k!ll them.” I pretended to agree. I would sign up for Pro-life stuff and make pro-life arguments to impress her, she said my debating skills for any topic absolutely amazed her, and she couldn’t imagine being that good at debating and writing. (I have been told this by teachers and professors and others all life long, so I believed her) She said sexual activity outside of marriage is wrong and judged women for it. She said it goes against “god.” I disagreed with her on all this but just played along. She wasn’t homophobic or racist so there’s that. Lol She liked girls too.

At sixteen years old, we quickly became best friends and already after only a couple weeks of knowing each other said we would be close friends forever, never losing touch. We made plans for a future together. I remember us sitting on a bus together planning on taking each other out to celebrate when we got our first grownup jobs, she planned to have me in her wedding as her bridesmaid or maid of honor with her sister (I never planned to get married but told her she would be my maid of honor if I did along with my sister) and to tell me first when she had her first kiss. We even planned to be roommates in the future. At this point I genuinely believed we were friends.

We hung out together for hours after school and took the bus home together everyday. We had the same sense of humor and interests. We met up on the weekends, often with other girls, going to movies and shopping malls. I loved it and felt like I finally had a true friend, someone I could relate to. I loved our sister-like friendship. Something about her always rubbed me the wrong way though, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I was able to just brush it off for a while because she was a lot of fun, and I could call her friend. But there was a resentment brewing beneath the surface. She was extremely judgmental and jealous just in general.

After not very long, I began to see some red flags but ignored them. My mom noticed before I consciously did. She told me the girl wasn’t a true friend. But she was my closest friend and so much like me, I wanted to overlook anything wrong she did. She was so fun. And she’s the one who held our whole friend group together. We were all friends but more friends with her, she was the “leader.” (I have had a few friend groups like this, and unfortunately if we have a falling out with the “leader,” the rest tend to take that person’s side. ) The problem was, I wasn’t genuinely overlooking the red flags, I was taking notice and secretly harboring resentment. I wasn’t genuinely letting it slide but tucking it away and keeping inventory.

That resentment began to seep into my words and actions and gestures and saturating my motives, in discreet but still destructive ways. Gradually, it molded me into someone else when I was interacting with her, someone who looked like me but wasn’t. Even in the encounters where we just talked about our mundane day or whatever mood we were in, even in my most honest moments, there was an underlying fakeness, a secret agenda. Even my truths were laced with deceit, fabrication. I saw it all as I looked back through our years worth of conversations. No one else would notice, but I know. I saw the show-offy underpinnings, the secret selfish agenda, the exaggeration, the shock value…Even when everything I said was true, none of it was really true. It wasn’t genuine.

She struggled with body image and low self esteem while I did not. Her body was her biggest insecurity. And I think this is why our friendship ultimately did not work out. I noticed how her attitude relating to me would change for a while if I wore a short shirt while we were out together or if I wore short shorts during girls movie nights. She would tell me as adults not to ever be alone in a room with her husband and not to ever hug him (her husband never looked at me that way, and I am not into men{she did not know this back then, I never told anyone til many years later}, even if I was I wouldn’t go for a man who is already taken, I chose to sink low back then, but even I wouldn’t sink that level of low lol). One day the girls and me were in the kitchen with her man while she was in the living room, the girls all walked into the living room while I stayed helping with food in the kitchen (before she told me not to be alone with him), and she ran so fast into the kitchen and escorted me into the living room. She would ask how I got my body to look like it did. I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant. I never did anything, it just looked that way naturally. She wore loose large clothes trying to cover her body and said she felt unsexy in clothes like that but that she felt very self conscious if she wore more revealing or tight clothing. She was also very jealous of my long hair. Her hair wouldn’t grow longer than her shoulders or it did but looked unhealthy or something and had to be cut. Basically she couldn’t have hair much longer than her shoulders and wanted it very long. She frequently told me I don’t know how lucky I am to be able to show my whole body in pictures and have hair almost to my hips.

Throwback to when I was young and my hair wasn’t damaged by the sun – I work outside now for seven years, n it takes a toll on my lovely locks
Another throwback! πŸ’•
Throwback πŸ–€ I look mostly the same now (see first picture of this post above) but a bit older and hair not as long because of weather damage working outside

She would look at me in disgust when I wore short shirts or shorts and then make remarks about something not looking good on me, a certain color not being my color or an accessory not looking right. Back then, belly chains were a thing, thin chains that would go around the abdomen and hang down a little bit, with like a cute butterfly or heart or flower charm almost like a necklace but around the waist. I wore those with belly shirts, and was told by her they don’t look right on me. She tried to wear one, but it wouldn’t fit around her waist. So she tried to make me think they weren’t good on me. It did not work and only provoked resentment in me for her. But I suppressed it because I wanted her as my friend. I also had my bellybutton pierced at sixteen years old, and she told me I did not have the personality for that and that people would get the wrong idea of me. She said only a certain kind of girl had a belly ring, and I wasn’t that kind of girl. In school and when we would hang out right after school, she would only see me in my school uniform. But on the weekends and evenings if we hung out, I wore my regular clothes and stuff, and it would trigger her. My mom said she was super jealous of me just by what I told my mom. I never believed my mom til I saw years later. With my intuition, I knew something wasn’t right though, all along. She wasn’t a friend.

If I would tell her something unkind someone said to/about me, she would say “Well she has a right to her opinion/can say whatever she wants.” Not long after we first met as teenagers, we brought Christmas cards/gifts to school for each of our friends. She gave them each one except me then claimed to have forgotten to get me a gift or write me a card. She pretended to feel guilty and kept saying sorry. I kept saying it was ok. I believed her back then but years later realized the truth after stuff like that continued to happen frequently through the years. I was disappointed back then but not angry. It’s not that I wanted a gift or card but disappointed that she wasn’t thinking of me. I remember the feeling, a feeling of her not caring about me enough to remember but caring about all our other friends. None of the others were left out, and we were even closer to each other than to them, she always said she felt closest to me than anyone, even closer than her actual sister. As adults she told her husband everything important first then me second then everyone else, even her own family found stuff out after me. I would have felt so honored, but my intuition told me something just wasn’t right all along, and I ignored it. An honest mistake is ok, it happens, and in some cases it truly doesn’t mean someone doesn’t care, someone can slip and leave someone out, I probably could. But she intended for me to have this feeling. And that is a big red flag. When a friend or family member intentionally tries to make someone seem unloved, not cared for, abandoned, forgotten, that is a big red flag. That was probably the first red flag. And I did not see it. I totally believed she meant well. In fact, I actually felt sorry for her because I truly believed she felt guilty and sorry, and I thought my card and gift to her probably added to that guilt.

She wouldn’t let me in pictures when we all took pictures together. She would stand in back of the other girls and not let me in at all. She would tell me she was embarrassed by her appearance/weight especially when people saw us together. As adults, she shared many of her wedding pictures online, and I was in none of the ones she shared. The only wedding pictures of hers I was in were ones that family/friends of hers shared. There was a group photo of us all hugging that someone took with her phone, then she asked me to take one of her and the girls all hugging, basically the same photo but with me not in it. That’s the one she shared on her own account, the one I took, without me in it. She wrote something about being thankful for her best girls and thanking them for being a part of her big day, tagged them all in it, leaving me out. There were also pictures of her hugging each of her closest friends/sister/sisters in law, individually, and she put each picture on except the one with her and me hugging. I was not one of the bridesmaids, just received a very last minute invitation as an afterthought. So it makes sense that some pictures would just be the girls who were in the wedding. But not one picture had me in it even pictures with others who were not in the wedding. (And I graduated college that year and spent all my cash gifts n gift cards to me by family as graduation gifts on her and her man, bought them house gifts, bought her jewelry, and gave them cash because they were poor, they would have me paying for all the food ordered during hangouts at their house, n my money would go missing out of my handbag during sleepovers and even at mutual friends’ houses, but that never happened at the mutual friends’ houses when she wasn’t there)

I did not see this in a compassionate understanding way, I made it about me. That she wasn’t including ME, that she was being a terrible friend to ME, that I was left out, poor ME. I do think it’s toxic to a friendship how she handled it, she could have communicated and straight up said she’s sorry but too self conscious to share pics of us together. Even if she did though, I probably wouldn’t have handled it well and still felt abandoned and excluded and angry. If I had a friend who did this today, I still would see it as toxic and cannot say for sure if it would put a strain on our friendship. It would look like she cares more about image than friendship. But I would understand to a point and not make it all about me. I wouldn’t passive aggressively post pictures of me in skinny jeans with low cut shirts and captions like “Thin girl with big boobs” just to get at her like I did back then. I would consciously try to feel compassion more than resentment even if I chose to distance or I would communicate and say how it affects me and our friendship and see if we could work it out or have to distance or even if I could just s u c k it up and still be close friends but with proper communication. I can see both sides, it has to be really challenging to have such low body image and be around women they see as much prettier. But it also s u c k s to be on the other side and not be included by someone supposed to be our friend all because of jealousy, image, and appearance. There is an adult way to handle it, and communication and boundaries are crucial. The problem by that point though was that I already stopped liking her ages ago, our friendship wasn’t worth salvaging. All these little things added up and culminated to me having no positive feelings for her at all, just wanting her to allay some lifelong insecurity, like when someone doesn’t love someone but loves the idea of them or their relationship with them.

She frequently told me that I was the “hott one” of the group and that she wished she had my body and my confidence. I would reassure her she was beautiful just the way she was. One Summer day at seventeen years old, a group of us girls were clothes shopping and trying on clothes in the changing room, we would all come out and show each other what the clothes looked like on us. There was this really skimpy outfit we all liked, made really tight and small, a one piece outfit with the back exposed and boobs showing a bit and cooch!e cutter shorts. I don’t completely remember it but something like that. She said this outfit won’t fit any of us so don’t even try. She said none of us had the body for it. We tried it anyway except for her. It couldn’t fit any of them in any size but did fit me, and I did in fact have the body for it(still do). I came out and showed them it on me. They all said it looked really good on me. But she said I looked like a s*ut and that people would get “the wrong idea” and that I shouldn’t buy it. So I put it back. After that, I noticed more subtle remarks she would say to/about me that were meant to get at me but could easily be brushed off as a joke or as her trying to “help” me. I always let them slide. She made remarks frequently that I look like a wh*re in my clothes and make-up (this worsened as we became adults) and that no wonder men flirt with me everywhere, that I seemed like I was “asking for it.”

Whenever we knew/met a man who liked me, she told me it’s only because I look like I easily put out. She constantly told me I should “cover up” and not post pictures with my full body showing. She claimed it was for my own good. She would also tell me she wished she could dress like me and not feel self conscious. One day she did wear tight revealing clothes, and her own mom told her she did not have the body for it and shouldn’t dress like that. It made her feel even more low about her body.

She made comments that my hair was ratty looking, that my nail polish was always cracked and I was in desperate need of a manicure… If I would get a manicure or fix my hair up or anything, she would make a remark like “Finally” or “I see you finally decided to fix yourself up…” Then follow up with something like “You know I’m only playing” or “Just saying. Our friendship is strong enough so I can be honest when it’s needed.” I totally agree that true friends should be able to be honest when necessary even if it’s not pleasant or is awkward, and I can totally take a real joke. But this wasn’t like that. It was intended to undermine my self confidence and make me self conscious or think I don’t look presentable to others. This may seem obvious like why still be her friend, but it was done in a subtle way thrown in with a bunch of “I love you so much like a sister, you’re my closest friend, I tell you everything more than anyone else…” Sometimes I would stop contacting her for a while when I was really ticked off, and she would send me a bunch of messages all day saying please don’t be mad at her. So I would write back that I wasn’t angry, just busy.

She would frequently host girls nights out, sleepovers, movie nights all kinds of stuff with girls we both knew and not tell me til it was over then act like she forgot. Just like with the Christmas card in high school. It carried into adulthood. Sometimes this would trigger depressive episodes in me. Her and her husband were big horror fans, like me. I saw a horror movie back then that is not very well known but really good. Don’t remember it now. I knew they would love it and sent them it in the mail as a surprise gift for their wedding anniversary. She sent me a thank you message, and we mentioned how we’ll get together and watch it even though I already saw it. We loved watching movies together and commenting on what we were watching throughout the movie. Next thing I’m getting messages about a girls movie night where the girls got together to watch the movie I bought her, and it was so fun. Without me. Rubbing it in how much fun they had and how much they loved it. There were a few occasions I bought them a movie or let them borrow mine (back when dvd’s were a thing) and they had movie night at their house watching those movies without me. I frequently mentioned that I would love to be part of their get togethers more often and was always told I would be invited to the next one. And wasn’t. I admit that this is something that still affects me now, emotionally. It can be difficult sometimes not to internalize it, particularly because I have had this happen at different stages of life with different friend groups, even as an almost middle aged adult. It’s not about me personally, just how people are, it’s unfortunately common, bullying, ghosting, breadcrumbing, exclusion, at all ages. But it can be easy to take personally. I’m not perfect, myself. I haven’t been the perfect friend. But I’m not someone who is generally toxic and don’t do anything that warrants this.

When I went to college, the other girls still saw each other frequently. We lived close enough that I could have easily met up with them. But she wouldn’t invite me then would call me and tell me all about the fun they were having together. She knew I had an insecurity about being excluded and stuff because it happened to me as a younger teenager by other girls (this is what triggered the initial onset of my depressive disorder). When I first went to college I had no new friends yet so it was important to me to keep in touch with her. She rarely called me or responded to my messages/phone calls to her. Eventually I got new friends who were actually friends, not fakes. But I still wanted her because she was my longest friend and the closest I had to a childhood friend, also I always wished I had a sister-like friend. Most of my new friends were men, which is still enough to fulfill my social desires/needs, I just wished I had a best girl too. I had women friends, just not exactly like that. I have had this insecurity about wanting a friend since we were kids. I thought that would make me more whole and mean I’m more loved. So even though I loved my newer friends and knew she wasn’t a real friend, she could fulfill something in me that they couldn’t. And my new friends all had childhood friends they still kept in touch with. I felt excluded like I wanted one too. I was the only one in our friend group who had no real friends outside that group. So I tried to force a friendship with her that just wasn’t.

Through the years, after high school, sometimes we would see each other frequently and sometimes not much at all. But we never lost contact completely. I was the one reaching out to her much more frequently, and she would say she was so glad to be back in touch after months or sometimes almost a year. She knew about my insecurity about feeling I need an old friend since we were young and would rub it in that her and the other girls we were friends with still see each other frequently since high school and are like a group of sisters. She knew this would just k!ll me inside. They were not in on this with her, she’s just like the one who kept the friendship group together. We were all more friends with her than each other, and most of the hang outs were hosted by her and her husband at their house. Her husband also had nothing to do with it. He was very quiet, meek, socially awkward, introverted, she “wore the pants” in the relationship, and he just went along with everything. I always knew me being excluded and all the remarks and insults and all were all her, not any of them. None of them saw it like I did. Sometimes they even asked me why I wasn’t at some of the friend gatherings. Or they would ask me if I was going to one coming up that I never even knew about and would tell them I wasn’t asked to go, and they would say “You never told Kim,” and she would say something like “oh I’m sorry, I forgot, of course you’re invited!”

I developed resentment for her through the years. It was building up all along, but I just ignored it. I wanted the image of a sister-like friendship since childhood/adolescence. Our friendship became even more passive aggressive on both our parts. We mostly kept in touch by e-mail and phone through the years, but eventually I decided to find her on social media and contact her after almost a year of not seeing/talking to each other except a phone call/hang out here and there. I sent her a message on FB saying something like remember me, we used to be friends. I was saying it in a passive aggressive way but in a way that could also come off as me being friendly and playful.

I remembered her years ago saying she needed to be needed by a man and friends. So I pretended to need her, pretended she was all I had, just because I wanted a girl friend since we were young. Even though I currently had true friends. I did not have a long-term friend or a sister-like friend and tried to force her to be both. Not “force” like control her, she went along with it, just tried to force something that just wasn’t real.

I acted like someone I wasn’t with her. I used language/words/cursing/phrases that I don’t naturally use and acted so clingy and needy just to keep her as my friend and impress her. I have many old conversations with her that a while ago I read through after not talking to her in years and throughout reading I would think “Da fuq did I write?, Da fuq did I just read?” πŸ˜† I cannot believe how fake I was just to get someone I did not even like to like me. I trash talked all my true friends to her, trash talked my family, my coworkers back then (she did the same with hers), everyone I knew, just to make it look like she was all I had. I told her any problems I had and often exaggerated them to look needy. But at the same second I wanted her to be super jealous of me. So I also often would rub stuff in to try to make her jealous. When I would see her post about hating her body and wanting to lose weight, I would post pics of myself right after in a short tight dress or swimsuit. One night she posted that she ate too much and felt so bloated and ugly and was getting ready for bed, I told her she was so beautiful (I was faking the kindness and was secretly taking great satisfaction in her ordeal, I suspect she knew the truth, we knew what each other did), and then after she went to bed, I got all dolled up and posted a picture of me in a little black dress with stiletto heels so it would be the first thing she saw when she woke up in the morning, I knew her biggest insecurity was her body like she knew my biggest insecurity was not having a true long-term girl-friend). She did stuff like this to me too. She would frequently post about her group of girls who were like sisters and her childhood best friend she doesn’t know what she would do without and how often they all see each other. I knew them all and was rarely invited. One day I posted about an argument with my mom, and she posted about the amazing day she had hanging out with her mom. Another day I posted that I wished I had an IPhone but did not have the money. Next thing she was posting how much she loves her iphone and how she uses it all day to text her best girls, who also all had one, who are like sisters. So I took pics of myself in a bra and tight low pants and posted them. πŸ˜† We knew exactly what each other was doing. One day I told her my closest friend other than her was on vacation and I was in a depressed lonely mood (this was true), and she said something like aww I’m always here for you, I love you so much like a sister. Then later that day all the girls were together for movie and game night all loving each other like sisters, and I wasn’t invited. So I asked my dad for his credit card to go shopping and posted something like “Going shopping with Daddy’s credit card” and then posted all pictures of me in my skimpy new clothes & heels for her to see. She commented on some of the pictures with her subtle insults saying my hair can use a comb or be careful because men will love those s*utty clothes. And next thing I had trolls (her using different accounts) calling me an ugly s*ut and stuff.

We would write statuses about each other but act like it wasn’t about each other, we both knew it was though. I would write about “this jealous b!tch who is so jealous she can’t see straight,” and she would write about this “stup!d stuck up b!tch who thinks she’s something,” or we would write about fake friends. Then we would ask each other “Is this about me?” Then our responses would be something like “Omg, no! It’s not about you! Omg, I love you like a sister, you’re the best friend I have…! How could you think it’s about you?! It’s just some girl at work.” 🀣

She also did creepy things online, making fake accounts and sending strange e-mails under different addresses, there was this thing back then to play a joke on people where it looks like a different e-mail address/phone number sent an e-mail/text, but for some reason the person’s real e-mail address/phone number would show up at the end, it made no sense since the point was to pretend someone else sent it. They never said that would happen. My sister tried to play a silly joke on me before, and I knew it was her because her real contact info showed up. My sister never knew that would happen. My sister and me would receive strange texts and e-mails with links to spam and viruses by an unknown number/e-mail address, but the friend’s real e-mail/phone number/name would show at the bottom, she never knew this would happen. I would also get strange messages by people online I’m sure were her. She would use names very similar to hers. I was always getting trolled and called a s*ut on my pictures by people who talked how she did, with names similar to hers. Sometimes she as herself would argue back with them saying “Stop talking to my friend like that!” Then ask me in person if I saw her defending me online. Lol She would even remember the names of the strange people trolling me when I wouldn’t even remember. One day in person, I said I have two new trolls now, and she automatically knew their names, both of which had the same/similar initials/names as her name. She also made an anonymous Twitter account to trash talk her family and friends. She used a fake name and told my sister what name she used. It was a name with her real initials. Just like the trolls on my account.

We would write some very messed up things to each other, she would write that she’s getting ready to cut herself with her razor blade, and I would write that I’m getting ready to drink bleach. We were messed up lol I admit it gives me a good laugh thinking back πŸ˜‚

We had a falling out in the end and stopped communicating for good. I sent her the most vicious insults I possibly could come up with, drawing on her deepest insecurities and worst fears, including that her husband was going to leave her for a more beautiful woman (this was her biggest fear of all, she was obsessed with it, she told me she couldn’t stand summer because all the women were out in revealing clothes and she knew he saw).

I said something like get off your @$$ once in a while and take a walk to somewhere other than the fridge (she frequently complained that all she did was sit on her sofa all day and eat and get bigger and bigger)…and a bunch of other toxic stuff, it was mostly just regurgitation of her own criticism of herself. It’s a vicious thing for a woman to take another woman’s insecurities that she shares with her and throw it in her face later. This was very uncharacteristic of me and not something I have ever done again. We tried to drag each other down as low as we could take each other. And maybe one of us won. Maybe one of us was lower in the end than the other. Maybe one of us was sitting around lonely and depressed feeling like a loser who who has no real friends, a loser who always gets excluded because of being unworthy of sisterly love, and maybe one of us was sitting around self loathing feeling like an ugly hag whose husband is going to leave for another woman, a more beautiful woman. And maybe today, there are remnants of those insecurities lingering about, hovering in the distant corners of our minds, tucked away, just waiting to resurface at any given moment. Yay us, we succeeded. And what did we accomplish? What did that make us? A wonderful amazing person because one of us made the other feel like an unworthy friendless, loveless loser and one of us made the other feel like a hideous slob?

A rat is a rat is a rat.

I only did all this because of what she did first. But there is no justification. A better person wouldn’t have done what I did. A more evolved person would have proacted, would have communicated or distanced and set healthy boundaries, not reacted by sinking even lower. I held the philosophy “When she goes low, I go lower.” An emotionally healthy, emotionally intelligent, mature, well rounded, honest person would not have done that. A true safe person would have been true and safe even in that situation, not allow someone else’s actions to influence who they choose to be. My youth contributed but was no justification. Today, I am not that girl. Since then, I have had other friends who have done similar things to me, and I had the chance to react like I did back then. But I chose not to.

All the years of resentment that were building up all along that I kept bottled up exploded and overflowed. A while later she came back and tried to get back in touch, but I ignored her.

After cutting her off for good, my mental health became so much better. While it was going on, I did not realize the extent to which it was affecting me having her in my world, not just what she was doing but my reaction to it. It was unhealthy me pretending to be something I’m not, trying to always make her jealous, trying to always put on a show for her. The whole thing was just toxic. I began having less depressed moods and became happier overall after ending contact with her. She convinced most of our mutual friends to unfriend me also.

Every once in a while through the years, even now, something happens that really seems like her. Someone tries to hack my accounts or sends me weird messages. Stranger women who I can tell are fake write to me on all my pictures and stuff and friend request me. They’re all the same kind of women, conventionally beautiful, dress in revealing clothing, don’t have many FB friends or much content. I just have a sense that it’s her, using photos of other people, and know she did do stuff like that before. I’m surprised that she’s still playing games at nearly forty years old and with kids of her own now.

I think she really did love me, but her jealousy and mental health problems got in the way. I was only like that because of how she was to me first, but I think I was even more fake than her. I couldn’t stand her, just wanted the image of that friendship. I was even fake sometimes with other people if I knew she was watching, just so she would be impressed or whatever. I think she really wanted me as a friend but did not know how to show it. I was 20 something years old back then, still old enough to know better, but my youth influenced me to act that way.

It’s definitely not something I would do again. I could not imagine having that toxic relationship now or being that toxic to others and myself. Ten years of that nonsense. Wasn’t worth it. I’m embarrassed about how I acted.

I no longer have resentment for her and hope she’s doing well in life, but I wouldn’t be her friend again or respond if she ever messaged me. It was never a genuine friendship. It was built on insecurity and fakeness and neediness and clinginess. It wasn’t a friendship gone wrong but never one at all. Even if we are both all grown up now and much more mature and would never do that again, I have no interest in her. I just think that all is better left in the past.

The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.

I hope you are having a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are!

Xoxo Kim πŸ’•

I’ll think of Summer days again…and dream of you β™₯οΈπŸ’”β™₯οΈπŸΎβ˜€οΈ

β™₯️

“Trees swayin’ in the summer breeze
Showin’ off their silver leaves
As we walked by
… Soft kisses on a summer’s day
Laughing all our cares away
Just you and I
… Sweet sleepy warmth of summer nights
Gazing at the distant lights
In the starry sky
… They say that all good things must end someday
Autumn leaves must fall
But don’t you know
That it hurts me so
To say goodbye to you
… Wish you didn’t have to go
No, no, no, no,
And when the rain
Beats against my window pane
I’ll think of summer days again
And dream of you” πŸ’”β™₯οΈπŸ’”β™₯️

This is the cutest thing. 😍

Tomorrow morning we say our last goodbye to our sweet boy. πŸ’”β™₯️ He is sixteen years old and has been declining for a while now. We were sitting in the park together that we have walked for many years night and morning, through all the changing seasons. I was holding him against me with my head resting on his, never wanting to let him go. I looked down and saw his little legs resting here on my coffee cup and found it adorable. πŸ₯°β™₯️ I’m so glad I got the opportunity to have this picture. My whole body is so heavy with grief, and every inch of it is throbbing in physical pain, head to toe, I never felt grief so physically like this. I can hardly stand and am like a zombie and disoriented for much of the days. I don’t even know or care what’s going on around me. Gutted is the word that keeps coming to mind. But I felt the love and joy sitting here together in the gentle Spring breeze in our favorite park. β™₯️🐾 And I know he felt it too.

I love you my baby, furever and for always, xoxo 😘

Sending love…

Xoxo Kim β™₯️

Saying goodbye to a furever friend β™₯οΈπŸ’”πŸΎ

This is my FB post a few days ago. I am gutted. This is absolutely the most painful experience, and I have been struggling so hard. I’m dying inside. I know it’s just the way it has to be. They don’t live forever. But the pain is overwhelming and shattering.

(Picture is a throwback to May 2020 – he is not much of a kisser, but this is a capture of a rare kiss! πŸ₯°)

“This is the time to remember
Because it will not last forever
These are the days to hold onto
’cause we won’t
Although we’ll want to
This is the time
The time is gonna change
I know we got to move somehow
But I don’t want to lose you now” β™₯️

My baby, I love you, furever & for always. Best friends for seven years. Never a day apart.

All our mornings spent in Schuylkill River Park, sipping iced lattes in the grass, and our evening walks along the Schuylkill River Trail under the moonlight, watching the city lights twinkle on the river, sometimes listening to Oldies as we walked, then stopping by Fitler Square on the way home, seeing all the holiday displays all Fall & Winter, stopping at Bacchus Market for a free treat (he took me there every morning when I first met him because he knew they gave free treats to dogs who stopped in, I never knew that!), walking all the way to Rittenhouse Square, stopping in the garden to smell all the flowers, getting caught in the rain, running through the Winter snow together, basking in the Summer sunshine, rolling around in the Fall leaves, watching all the Spring flowers blooming around us, sitting on the steps together in the warm evening air watching all the other humans and doggies walk by, stopping to chat with strangers, getting endless compliments on all the cuteness, always getting asked “Is that a fox??”, making me run around the kitchen table to get his leash on because he loved to play games (this annoyed everyone who walked him πŸ˜†), running around Rite Aid parking lot all those years before it closed up, sneaking onto the grass that we weren’t allowed (because he insisted, and who can say no to foxface?), trying not to get caught….all the side streets and routines that were just “ours.” Listening to the clapping and the cheering every night at 7:00pm, all those days when the streets were desolate and the city was like a ghosttown or going up in flames, and the world was falling to pieces around us and everything was uncertain, human friends and other animal friends coming & going. But there was my one constant, by my side, little paws tapping on the ground beside me all the way, never ever leaving. Day after day, year after year.

I will never forget.

Saying goodbye is the absolute worst. The most difficult thing in life. It’s pain that is unmatched. It takes my breath away and threatens to bring me to the floor or ground wherever I’m standing. πŸ’”β™₯️ It’s heavy. One of the heaviest things I have ever had to carry. It’s an impending loss I can’t bear to fathom. I am gutted.

I’m honored I got to be his nanny for seven years and have his love and that his family invited me to come and say goodbye on his last day next week because they know the love we shared for so many years. They know I’m grieving with them. His mom said she feels less alone knowing that.

He was always one of the “special” ones. Any humans who have loved and lost many pets through the years will probably know what that means. We love them all, and all the losses are shattering, but just once or once in a blue moon, a special one comes along who it’s even more difficult to say goodbye to. A furry soulmate. β™₯️

As someone who has always had multiple pets of my own and has worked with ones for seven years who I love wholeheartedly as my own, this pain isn’t new. It’s the same old pain. But each loss is different and challenging in its own unique way, and this is definitely one of the more difficult ones. Each experience with grief or any experience has various aspects and layers, and for whatever reason some losses can be more painful. And this one seems unbearable.

“I can’t remember when you weren’t there
When I didn’t care
For anyone but you
I swear
We’ve been through everything there is
Can’t imagine anything we’ve missed
Can’t imagine anything the two of us can’t do
Through the years, you’ve never let me down
You’ve turned my life around
The sweetest days I’ve found,
I’ve found with you
Through the years, I’ve never been afraid
I’ve loved the life we’ve made
And I’m so glad I stayed
Right here with you
Through the years” β™₯️

I love you my baby. I always will. I can’t remember life before you and can’t bear to imagine it without you. β™₯οΈπŸ’”

Sending love to all in need.

Xoxo Kim

Just received the BEST news!! πŸ’šπŸ˜πŸ˜πŸ˜

Pretty in pink πŸ’•

For if we give our very best, I know that we will more than pass the test…

(This post was meant for Monday, and I got super busy with work and never posted)

Omg, omg, omg!!! (dramatic, right? 🀣)

I just received the BEST news ever today!!! I’m over the moon!! I can’t help but share!!! I’m celebrating every victory along the way, everything that goes right, everything that gives me any glimmer of hope. And any obstacle or hiccup along the way, I will meet with positivity and hope.

I submitted my application, did some interviews and exams, and I was just accepted into the University of Pennsylvania…………..πŸ˜†
.
.
.
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Kidney Transplant Center program here in Philadelphia to begin further testing to become a living kidney donor to a random stranger!! Ahhh!! πŸ«˜πŸ’š (Lol I never had the grades to be a college student at PENN University πŸ˜† I don’t have the brains, but I do have the kidneys 🀣) It’s something I always wanted to do and am now finally getting around to it. So so many people are in need of a kidney, there is a severe shortage. Everyday SO many people are sick and dying of kidney failure where if just one healthy person steps up and gives, one less person would die/be sick. Imagine if you could literally pull a person out of hospice or stop them right before they have to go into it and give them their life back. Imagine if a person literally on their death bed was told, “nevermind, you have 20+ more years!” A healthy person can do that for someone with end stage kidney failure. There are people dying prematurely who don’t have to be. Living kidney donation can be an intimidating, expensive (we may need health insurance if we don’t already have it, take off work for testing and surgery) long process though so I see why more people don’t. We all help someone in our own ways and show compassion & kindness in a way that resonates with us that may not with others, and this so much resonates with me. If I am lucky enough to be healthy not only enough for myself but enough to share that health with another, I’m all in!

After some preliminary medical testing, they determined I’m healthy enough to begin more extensive medical and psychiatric testing at PENN kidney transplant center. A few days ago they weren’t sure if I would be allowed into the program because in 2007 I had emergency surgery to remove a stone that was obstructing my kidney. Usually when someone has kidney surgery they are not allowed to be a living kidney donor because of possible scarring on the kidney because of the surgery. This isn’t a health concern with two kidneys but could possibly be with just one. They were waiting for the kidney expert to get back to them. The kind of surgery I had, the surgical instrument doesn’t come into contact with the kidney itself. So the nephrologist said I’m in!! Yay!! I knew it deep inside that it would work out! I can feel the stars aligning in our favor. My perfect match is waiting for me! #holdonimcoming

They said if there is no match in Philadelphia, they will send my kidney on an airplane to the person! I never even been on an airplane! But in just a few short months my kidney could be! Makes me giggle lol I can choose someone specifically also who needs a kidney, pretty much whoever I want, just anyone needing a kidney (there are so many, they are not hard to find), and if we aren’t a match but I turn out to be healthy enough, I can donate my kidney to a different stranger, and the person I chose will get a kidney that is more suitable to them through my donation. It’s called a “voucher.” They’ll get the next available kidney that matches them. It usually happens within a few months after the living donor donates to someone else. So my one donation can get two people in need a kidney (one would be mine) who wouldn’t have one without it. This is the way I am going. I’m going to choose a very very sick person who cannot wait for a deceased donor (some people in need of a kidney can wait months to years before death while others cannot), give that person a “voucher” if we aren’t a match but I’m healthy, donate my kidney to a stranger somewhere else, and the currently dying person gets the next available kidney in the nick of time. I already have someone in mind if all goes well. I saw his plead for a kidney on a subway ad. He lives close to Philadelphia. I looked him up, and he doesn’t have much longer to live because his kidney function is so low. Single digits low. He was crying on the news saying it’s a race against time. If he gets a living donor kidney, doctors said he can live another 20+ years, which will be around the end of his natural lifespan if he wasn’t sick. He’s registered with the National Kidney Registry to receive a kidney, and I’m registered to give one (after all my testing). He’s 70 something years old and has a lot more living to do.

Just one obstacle potentially holding up the process is I need health insurance in case they find any serious medical problem during my testing that doesn’t show up on the basic health test I just did or on the off chance I suffer a complication during/just after surgery to remove my kidney, they require health insurance just in case, I got rid of my health insurance years ago because it was expensive and not currently needed. The potential recipient’s health insurance will pay for my surgery because it’s their treatment, but it won’t pay for anything that may go wrong with me because of the surgery because I’m not their patient, and that’s on me! Health insurance can be an expensive, confusing, complicated, lengthy process that can hold up the testing process. But I’m determined! I am currently working on it now, already had a few phone calls and all seems to be going smoothly. I will do WHATEVER it takes to get someone off that wait list/dialysis and add 20+ years to their life, giving them the health that I have. #whateverittakes

I’m in this for the long haul.

Just a little bit of money, little bit of blood and urine, and I can save someone’s whole life! Just a small portion of my body can give someone a whole entire life. It warms me all over just thinking that.

If all goes well, in six months, someone will be getting The Call. The call that says 20+ years are suddenly added to their life and out of the blue they can get off/won’t have to begin dialysis. And in our case, someone doesn’t have to die because I’m a LIVING donor!! WIN-WIN!

My kidney will give them an almost completely normal life with no more sickness or fatigue or pain or dialysis. And I will be just as healthy as I am now with only a few lifelong restrictions (no activity where I can get hit in the back {certain sports} and no Advil/aspirin, and that’s about it) It will take me two-three months to recover before I can go back to work.

I just couldn’t resist sharing my amazing news! I still have to do extensive medical and psychiatric testing. This just means I have been accepted into their program for further evaluation to see if I’m qualified, not actually accepted to donate a kidney just yet. We have a ways to go still for that. But I am qualified to be accepted for further evaluation, I have to pass lots more tests.

They already know I’m not diabetic, no thyroid issues or anything lacking or anything, nothing excessive, and don’t have organ failure of any kind. But they have to check for every kind of common cancer and any abnormalities inside n out of my body. I will be scanned head to toe inside and out! They will also have to take my blood and tissue and find out who it’s a match for.

They also have to do intense psychiatric evaluation, making sure I’m emotionally stable, that I have a valid reason for wanting to donate a kidney (not feeling pressured by anyone or trying to make up for some mistake or something or not hearing voices telling me to give my kidney away lol), that I have appropriate life circumstances, support network, finances, diet…all that good stuff!

Wish us luck!! #wegotthis

I did some light research to see why we have two kidneys but can live being just as healthy and long with one. I think it’s not really known why but believed to be that we have two in case there’s an accident or something and one gets damaged. When one stops working or is no longer present, the other does the work for both, no problem. I know firsthand as my right kidney, unknowingly at first, suddenly stopped working in 2007, and the left one picked up the slack. (There was a stone stuck in it blocking the ureter so no urine could go through to get filtered). It began working again after emergency surgery under general anesthesia.

I can’t wait til my perfect match gets THE CALL! πŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’š It warms my heart and fills me with joy!

(Also, I was called “young & healthy,” and that made my day! 😁)

#onesenough
#endthewaitlist
#everyoneisfamily
#donatelife

Sending love and light and hugs to all in need/all who desire ❀️ And wishing you a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are

Xoxo Kim ❀️ πŸ’‹πŸ˜˜

Elevator phobe πŸ–€ {heads up:⚠️ there’s a picture of my cut finger in this post}

Content warning ⚠️: phobia

Click link to watch video if desired- it will show up

This video f’d me up lol Most horrifying thing I have seen. I literally felt like the very very beginning of a panic att*ck coming on, had to take some deep breaths lol πŸ˜† Felt like my chest caving in

A man got stuck in n elevator at like the 39th floor in the middle of the night on a Friday and wasn’t found til Sunday.

I thought this was going to trigger a relapse in me just hearing that true story πŸ˜‚

Also, I was where this girl was at one point. She runs up and down 17 flights of stairs to avoid elevators. I totally understand. I did that for years, even running up/down twenty floors. But I overcame it with exposure therapy some years ago. I’m so glad. That fear was crippling.

I got cut yesterday on a doorknob in an apartment building I visit for work. My claustrophobia was acting up (I struggled with debilitating claustrophobia for as long as I can remember, conquered it with exposure therapy a few years ago, it’s generally dormant, but every once in a while, I have a minor flare (this is different than a relapse which happened once), particularly if I’m dehydrated {I’m very physically active seven days a week and can get dehydrated easily, though I’m working on this – dehydration in me can trigger anxiety physical feelings, racing heart, anxious feelings, jitters…that aren’t about any specific thing, and that general anxiety can latch onto a certain thing or thought, and sometimes manifests as my claustrophobia even though it’s not originally that, yeah it’s weird lol If I have an anxious feeling for no reason just like if I have a depressed feeling not about anything in particular, it can search for something to latch onto and become about that then get carried away with it}).

I wasn’t going to go into a panic or anything but could tell I would be a bit anxious on an elevator. I just wasn’t up for it. Even on my best days having to get into an elevator takes a little bit of emotional energy out of me. It’s not destructive to my mental health because it doesn’t happen often enough and is only a little bit. I have no problem at all in general getting into elevators. But usually I do have to psych myself up for getting into one. If I’m tired (which isn’t often) or just not in a very good mood, it may be better for me to avoid elevators if possible (not always possible as I frequently have to get into them for work, and not all buildings have stair access going up or some are on like the 40th or 60th floor, I’m very physically fit but don’t think even I can run up 40 floors πŸ˜†) because I can’t give it my all like when I’m my best self. This just takes emotional energy I may not have that moment and makes me more susceptible to relapse. My claustrophobia will likely never be cured, just dormant. But that’s no problem at all, it’s enough for me to be able to function well. It used to be crippling.

Because my claustrophobia was flaring, I decided to take the stairs. I stepped through the door leading to the stairs, and it closed (I remember hoping it did not lock). I looked around, and there were no stairs to be seen, just a room with a bunch of closed doors. My first thought was uh oh, what if they’re all locked, but I did not actually believe it, thought it was just my claustrophobia talking. But sure enough. None of them would open. So I reached for the handle to open the door I just came through, and the handle broke off. I frantically grabbed the broken part still on the door and pulled. It stayed closed and sliced my hand in multiple places, especially the finger here. I tried putting the handle back on and pulling it open, but it came off again. So there I was locked in a room, the room I decided to go in to get to the stairs because my claustrophobia was acting up, and I wasn’t exactly in the headspace for being enclosed somewhere. Isn’t it ironic? Lol And my phone was almost drained.

I did not go into a panic even though I was locked in. I still remained calm and decided to try the doors again thinking if I can’t get out, I’ll just call someone and explain. I got one open that led to the stairs. To come back down, I had to get into the elevator anyway because the stairs would just lead right back to that room lol

These are my FB posts earlier. Just sharing here lol I had a battle with this building again this morning 😹

Sending love & hugs to all who want it!

Xoxo Kim ❀️

Prettiest cop on the block {throwback to that time I was in love with a police officer β€οΈ}

I’m the prettiest cop on the block
I set your souls on fire

Alice Cooper – Prettiest Cop On The Block –

This post here is a bit like this (in link below) but not anywhere near as long or deep. Both about my experiences with unrequited love. The true story in the link is grueling and took me six months to write.

https://inspirationalgem.wordpress.com/2022/12/31/the-agony-the-ecstasy-my-true-story-of-love-rejection-heartbreak-healing-%e2%99%a5%ef%b8%8f%f0%9f%92%94%e2%99%a5%ef%b8%8f-loonngg-post/?preview=true

Fun and random fact about me that no one else in the world knows. But now you do!

When I was 17/18 years old (around twenty years ago) I was in love with a police officer.

She made me so happy. She had the most beautiful face, hair, smile, personality, everything. I was mesmerized. It was joy and giddiness and ecstasy, just seeing her across a street, after a while it turned to a deeper feeling but still ecstatic and uplifting and joyful. It never quite turned to “the one” or “love of my life” status that I can remember like I have felt for some women, but was possibly getting to that point. It was definitely love. She was always on my mind even when we weren’t around each other. Usually though, when I’m in love with a woman, it happens much faster than a year that I think of her as my one or love of my life. And I don’t mean “falling” in love. I can actually have a feeling of *being* “in love” with a woman and want her as my person for life. For me, it happens quickly, usually. In this case with the police officer, I was totally smitten, but it wasn’t to that point yet even a year later, if I remember correctly. I don’t think she would have ever been one of “my ones.” Lol But I was totally in love, just not as in love as I can be. If I were a normal gay woman and our circumstances were more compatible and she liked me back, it probably would have been a short term relationship of substance, more than a fling but not lifelong.

She was 40 something years old. We did not know each other well. Just saw each other around. Once in a while my friends and me would talk to her. She was sweet, and just seeing her brightened my day no matter what mood I was in. She told me happy birthday one day! I knew her since I was 14 years old and always liked her a lot, but at 17 years old I suddenly fell for her hard. I began to take special interest in her in a way I haven’t in the years before. I thought she was a hottie in her uniform (like really really aesthetically pleasing lol I could stare all day). I loved the way she moved in it. I loved the way her pants hugged her hips and the way her hips swayed as she walked. And I loved the g u n at her side. She was very curvy. And she was very confident, it could be seen in the way she carried herself. I loved her great butt, it was the kind Sir Mix-A-Lot sings of. 😍 I loved the way her thick black curly hair fell to her shoulders and the way she would laugh and joke with the other police officers on the corner. She was a Latina beauty. She had a very happy temperament, always cheerful and engaged with people. She was sweet and a bad@ss babe all in one. Her husband was/is (don’t know if they are still together but hopefully!!) a very lucky man. He got the whole package for real. Beauty inside and out, brains, confidence, compassion…One day she hurt her back at work, and she was definitely low in spirits for a few days. I would see her have to stop, lean over, and rub her own back. I remember aching for her and wanting to make it all better. I wanted to hug her and make her pain go away.

Her age never fazed me or the fact that she was heterosexual and happily married to a man with kids around my age. I wanted her lol She would talk about her “sweetheart” and her “honey” and “baby” who was her husband of many years. I wasn’t jealous. I wouldn’t have cared if she loved us both, even if he was her main one. I’m good at sharing. πŸ˜† I prefer monogamy and being the favorite/main/primary but can handle “my person” not being monogamous and being a close second. Lol (This is not the same as a monogamous person settling for me because they can’t have who they really want, that I wouldn’t accept, but I don’t mind a special/queerplatonic friend putting their romantic relationship first or a polyam person having a primary partner who isn’t me and me as a close relationship that comes after, nuances matter, but overall, I don’t mind not being the absolute center of someone’s world, I would like it though lol) One day on Valentine’s Day I heard her telling other police officers she worked with “My honey gave me flowers this morning when I woke up!” And one day she was happily showing everyone her new necklace “from my sweetheart!” And “My baby made me breakfast for Mother’s Day then took me out!” It was cute. Lol I was so happy to hear something about her personal life. It uplifted me.

A year later at eighteen years old I was still in love. I “stalked” her for a year. I would see her going a certain way and walk that way too hoping to run into her. I would get all giddy upon seeing her and try to get her to notice me and think I’m pretty. I did not fully realize what I was doing. I just knew she was so pretty and sweet and funny and wanted her to feel the same about me. I thought I could impress her. I was way too shy to talk to her. Lol When she would casually talk to me, I would freeze up, smile, and look at the ground πŸ˜†

We saw each other one day in an unusual place, and she looked so happy and pointed at me saying “I know you!!” It made me so happy! Another day she was monitoring a school event and had to check our ID’s. When I got up to the police at the door, she said “She doesn’t have to show her ID, I know who she is.” I was honored. ❀️ Still makes me happy now that I was trusted.

One day I was thrilled beyond belief, over the moon, because some criminal did something, and her and another police officer (another pretty lady around the same age, a gorgeous blonde) came over to ask me if I saw anything. I did not (I did see her running after someone in the morning and was intrigued, I liked seeing her work in action). Lol But was happy to be the center of her focus for a few minutes. It made my day, I was giddy and bursting with joy for the rest of the day. I ran home and told my mom the police came to talk to me, I could hardly contain my joy. I wrote it on my online journal I had back then too. Lol I never mentioned the part that I was in love with one of them. The journal was kind of anonymous, the website required anonymity to a point, no contact info or anything, can’t remember the name of it, but I was still afraid to put too much detail about my love affair lol All my followers knew my first name and that I was a teenaged girl. I pretended to like boys on there, just to put it “out there” that I’m in fact normal. I was so happy to see the new police officer too. Every once in a while I found myself catching some kind of feels for her too when the feeling for the other would begin to mellow out a bit, when I like/love a woman and she doesn’t know or care that I exist and shows me no attention, my feels for her can come and go or fade and rekindle, and I can move onto another for a while. I only have the capacity to actively be into one at once though, even if I can tell I like them both. (I think real crushes can work like that too?) Sometimes focusing on that woman took the pain away about the other woman not really knowing I exist and me not knowing how or having the courage to approach her. One day with my friend, I decided to go ask them for directions just to have an excuse to talk to them. Lol Some of my girl friends liked the police officers too, but they liked the man ones. I pretended to like the men too so they would think I was normal. They themselves were not homophobes, but society in general was. I was happy the girls wanted to hang around the police because then I got to see her. I remember one of the girls was going to walk over to one of the men police officers she liked and say “Please cuff me officer,” but she chickened out. We were all laughing hysterically.

We had metal detectors at my high school. The school police were always there. But one day the women school police weren’t there, and she was there to search any of us who walked through when the metal detector would beep on us. Only women police officers were allowed to check the girls. If a woman wasn’t there and it beeped on a girl, they had to let us go anyway without checking. That day they got her to search us.

For some reason it beeped on me. She had to search me. I was crushed. She waved the thing up and down me and patted me down. That has happened before with the school police, and I had no problem. But I felt like she did not trust me when she knew me (sort of), and I had these deep emotions for her. My adult mind understands now that those feelings couldn’t have ever been reciprocated, no way a 40 something year old is going to go for a teenager, to her I was just a typical high school girl, and she was simply doing her job. But back then, I was deeply wounded and couldn’t shake the feeling that someone I loved and had a thing for did not trust me. She was very compassionate and gentle, I still remember the tone of her voice when she said “I have to search you.” It was a deeply apologetic tone. There’s no way she could have known I loved her, but she probably knew a teenaged girl doesn’t want to have to get searched going into school. She did affectionately tell me before she can tell I’m a good girl. I was flattered.

I never saw her out of uniform in the four years I have known her. Then one day I saw her in a dressy shirt with flowers and was floored! It was the most amazing experience. It made me so thrilled and giddy. Lol Not just that she was beautiful but just seeing a personal aspect of her. I only ever mostly saw her professional side. She was very lighthearted and playful and kind. But other than that I did not know much about her, just enough to be in love.

I knew some of her political/moral views and some of her interests. She supported marriage equality and the death penalty. She was very family oriented, loved kids. She loved holidays, especially Halloween. She was against people suing people for d*mb things like ordering hot coffee and spilling it on themselves. One day it was in the news that a woman was suing a place for getting burned on coffee she ordered there. The police were talking about it the next morning, and she was yelling “You know coffee is hot!!”

I was going off to college soon (not leaving our city, just the location where I always saw the police officer) and was so deeply sad that I wouldn’t see her anymore. I stayed up all night long for hours the nights leading up to our last day seeing each other, trying to come up with a way to keep in touch with her. But we weren’t friends or even acquaintances. Girl hardly even knew I existed. I couldn’t exactly go up and say let’s keep in touch. Lol It wasn’t a context where that would be normal, and on top of that I’m super shy, especially back then. So even if she was an acquaintance, back then as a teenager, I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve. Probably wouldn’t even now lol

I knew the last day I would ever see her. I decided I would write my name and phone number on a piece of paper and walk up and hand it to her and let her know I always liked seeing her and was going to college and wouldn’t be around that way anymore. I fantasized over and over and over, how it would pan out. This fantasy also helped me cope with the pain and grief knowing our encounters were coming to an end. It gave me hope. But when the day came, I lost the nerve. I stopped halfway as I was walking to her, my heart pounding. I had the paper crumpled up in my sweaty palm and was frozen in place. I just stood there staring. She glanced at me for a second, and I lifted my arm to wave then dropped it again, too shy to go through with that too. I felt this empty dejected sinking feeling.

As an asexual/aromantic girl (with lesbian leanings) who had no idea what asexuality is, I did not know this was my version of a “crush.” I did not realize her being heterosexual and married would not be compatible with the kind of relationship I wanted with her (sure her husband wouldn’t have liked it much lol And a heterosexual woman likely can’t have the emotional/sensual inclination I can for other women, I wasn’t thinking of all this). I wanted a non sexual but sensual/emotional relationship with her, to hold hands, long hugs, be each other’s everything. I frequently fantasized about her, never sexually, all the things we would do together, sometimes the fantasies were sensual, imagining touching in non sexual ways. I imagined us strolling around, walking arm in arm, laughing, reading together, always being together and each other’s person. I was afraid the sensual fantasies/feelings made me gay and that I could be the target of homophobia if people knew, which terrified me, especially the thought of being ridiculed. Back then I wouldn’t have been able to handle people laughing at me and making jokes about me, and homophobia was still very rampant all over back then, still around now, but way worse back then. People were openly homophobic with no consequences, even teachers I had. Gay jokes were mundane things with no one calling them out, people laughing at same gender kissing scenes on tv. I also felt my sensual daydreams did not make sense since I was identifying as “heterosexual.” I never liked men but since I don’t quite like women in the traditional way either and society told me I’m hetero, that’s the label I took on. So I tried to suppress the desire. Sometimes I imagined her crying and me consoling her with hugs and back rubs (had these fantasies about other women too). Years later I realized it was my excuse to imagine touching her without being gay about it. I can console women just to console also. But this was going out of my way daydreaming because I wanted the fantasy of touching a woman but still being hetero about it. πŸ˜†

I liked her in a way that was different than how I liked my regular platonic friends but not in the traditional romantic/sexual way (I somewhat recently learned this is called alterous attraction/love, not strictly platonic but not quite romantic or having aspects of both, I’m homoalterous). I had no idea what it was. I thought of it as wanting her as my “special friend.” I never had inclination for thinking of her as my girlfriend or wanting her as one. That word doesn’t resonate with me for me. I don’t ever see myself as having a girlfriend or being someone’s girlfriend but can totally imagine having “my person” for life. I hope for that someday. I don’t mind if she wants to call me her girlfriend and thinks of me that way, just not a word that resonates with me.

This is just one of many examples since I was a little girl of “crushing on”/being in love with other girls. It’s a recurring thing throughout life for me since elementary school age til now, that I fall for other women like this. Not regular platonic but not traditional romantic/sexual. As I did not understand my identity/sexual orientation (oriented asexuality) til a few years ago, this was always a curious thing, always feeling gay but then nahh. Lol

Unfortunately I could never act on it because I don’t know how. It’s hard enough for even regular gay women to meet other women to be compatible with like that but when asexuality is thrown in, it adds to the challenge. Everyone and their mom and grandmom and great grandmom wants the s*x at all ages. And being aromantic (with strong homoromantic leanings) I never had inclination for traditional dating, like asking a woman out. I just see women I’m madd about and want in this life of mine. So it’s definitely a complex situation.

Asexuality.org

I don’t remember what inspired me to remember this experience with the police officer. But here it is. 😁

It may give people an idea of what it’s like to be a lesbian (or whatever hetero/bi…) asexual woman. We don’t experience sexual (and in some cases not even romantic or fullblown romantic) attraction but doesn’t mean we can’t experience need/desire for emotional/physical closeness or life partnerships or companionship “beyond” ordinary platonic but not sexual/romantic either.

Asexual love, it’s like when you have a crush in elementary school before your sexual aspect develops, but for asexual people, that sexual aspect never does even as adults. This doesn’t mean no romance or no deep emotional feels or emotional investment/commitment.
Asexuality.org

http://asexuality.org/

I hope you are having a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are! Wishing you lots of love!

Xoxo Kim πŸ’—

Back at it! πŸ’šπŸ˜ {Second attempt to give my kidney to a random stranger}

https://www.kidneyregistry.org/

https://www.nkdo.org/considering-kidney-donation/

You’ll never see exactly where the road will lead you
And when it comes to love
You gamble when you need to

https://youtu.be/xPZeg2bEBhY

The process has begun!!!

And I couldn’t be happier or more full of joy!

😁😁😁😁😁😁

So happy things are falling into place, and I’m finally trying again!! I’m thrilled!! Just to have this opportunity to at least try.

Shortly before the initial virus outbreak, I began the process of anonymous kidney donation to whoever is next on the waiting list here in Philadelphia or surrounding areas. I never received a follow up phone call or anything then the virus broke out, and everything changed. My financial/work circumstances in the last few years were no longer ideal for having kidney donation surgery if I’m found to be healthy enough. Now three years later, I’m trying again!! Back then I contacted a kidney transplant center directly. Now I’m going through the National Kidney Registry hoping to have better communication than with the last place. And I already do! I now have a mentor who is a living kidney donor herself who will be helping me throughout the process up to the surgery! She has already been SO helpful! I was in the middle of trying to figure out what lab tests I need done soon and was confused and out of nowhere, she texted me introducing herself as my living kidney donor mentor. I never even knew I have one! πŸ˜† And I asked what tests I need done now, and she responded instantly! I just had an interview with her, and it went so well! My basic application for health history was accepted so I can move onto the next step!

I want to share my gift of health with someone in need. I’m going to be getting the initial medical test soon to be sure I’m basically healthy enough (heart, kidneys, thyroid, glucose, no infections…), then a more thorough battery of medical and psychiatric exams if my basic lab results come back perfect.

πŸ’š

If my lab tests are all clear, I’ll be choosing a hospital here in Philadelphia to have extensive medical testing on my whole body in and out and psychiatric testing to make sure I’m emotionally stable enough to handle the gruelling process of extensive medical testing, the possibility of finding out I could have serious health issues myself, and the potential of serious complications during and just after surgery, including death, and where I’ll be having kidney donation surgery if all goes well!! yay!!! They also want to make sure people wanting to donate a kidney are for the right reason (simply to help someone) and not feeling forced or anything associated with mental illness (because only a cray cray person can want our body cut open and a piece of it removed to help a total stranger, right?? 🀣).

The whole process beginning now will probably take around six months. So hopefully all goes well, and one of my kidneys will have a new home in six months giving someone else the gift of health and life that I am so lucky to have. It will not only prolong their life expectancy (possibly moving it to average or near average) but will significantly enhance the quality of their life, making it normal/near normal, enough energy, ability to work and travel, get off dialysis or prevent it, which is hell for people on it but if not, they die soon, they’ll get to do just about everything a healthy person can do with something as small and simple as my kidney!! Since I’m alive, my kidney would be expected to last in their body up to twenty years. If the person is already an older person, the kidney can carry them to their full lifespan. This is what I’m especially hoping for but really don’t mind how old the person is, it’s just good to think my kidney can last the rest of someone’s life instead of eventually having to be thrown in a biohazard can somewhere and being replaced by a new one. But that’s ok, it will help someone for however long it does! Even a few years is good! And even if it doesn’t work at all for some reason, at least I tried! That’s all that matters!

Kidney disease is so common, there are countless people out there on the wait list waiting for someone to die or care and donate while alive. Helping one of them is a true gift and feels like my “calling.”

Three (actually more like five I have been actively planning it and many more that I eventually knew I would try it) years later and still on my mind. So yeah, I think it’s something I must go through with! ❀️

The gift of health is better when shared with another! β™₯️

I’m already very physically active and fit and full of energy myself, I have a mostly healthy diet especially recently when I cut out almost all sugar and sweets (even my beloved iced caramel lattes with extra liquid sugar and extra caramel syrup, that’s not easy! πŸ˜†), have fruits and veggies everyday, no alcohol, smoking or other drugs, not on medication for anything physical or psychiatric, no serious life problems, live at home with family who will help me after the surgery…I do have a couple things that aren’t the best like no health insurance myself. The health insurance of my potential recipient will pay for all my medical/psychiatric exams and my surgery because that’s all considered their treatment. But their insurance won’t pay for anything I need myself like if any complications arise during/after my own surgery. I also had emergency kidney surgery many years ago, but the kidney and me made a full recovery. This probably doesn’t look the best to the kidney donation team. But we’ll see!

This has been my dream for many years since I was young and read a true heartwarming story about a man who donated his kidney to a random stranger shortly after altruistic (or non directed) kidney donation became legal. It felt like home to me, my first feeling was “Oh, of course,” and I just knew it would be me one day giving my kidney to a stranger.

β™₯️β™₯️β™₯οΈπŸ’šπŸ’šπŸ’šβ™»οΈ

#onesenough
#everyoneisfamily
#holdonimcoming
#wishmeluck
#endthewaitlist

I hope you’re having a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are! Wishing you all the love & health!

Xoxo Kim 🀩

Big @$$ Headache πŸ’š

πŸ–€

“I feel like I been rode hard and hung up wet
Swallowed by a mule and crapped off a cliff
I drank enough whiskey to fill up a lake
Woke up this morning with a big @$$ headache
Y’all I ain’t kidding this son of a b!tch hurts
Where the hell are my pants
Must be with my shirt
I still got my boots on but make no mistake
They can’t help me kick this big @$$ headache” 🀣

I feel every bit of this lol

I’m SO thankful my headache is better today, almost completely, and my appetite for life is back. Being physically ill takes more life out of me than when I’m depressed. No matter how bad my depression gets, even when it’s a full-blown major depressive episode where I can hardly get out of bed, I can usually still feel a very faint, faded, washed out spark of desire, even when it’s almost non existent, it’s still here.

I rarely to never get physically sick, but for the last few months, I seem to get a recurring respiratory virus of some sort, then yesterday I woke up with the worst migraine-like headache. It made me not want anything at all, but I wanted to want stuff. I saw green nail polish I wanted and just couldn’t (I got it today and painted my nails!). I wanted to want coffee and food. My body was so hungry, but I had no emotional desire and couldn’t eat.

I don’t actually have migraine headaches but something that feels like them because I have tmj dysfunction, a disorder in my jaw joint, I had since I was little. It’s chronic, and there’s no known cure or safe treatments that I know of but some very effective stretches and self massages. I’m very used to it; it’s not an issue, just a minor inconvenience. It doesn’t affect my health and is not progressive. It can have severe flare-ups, but I’m used to it, and they aren’t that frequent.

One of the symptoms is headaches of different kinds, including these migraine -like ones. I don’t usually get them. But when I do, they are terrible and almost debilitating. This was one of the worst ones. I am very high functioning no matter what and can push my way through anything. And that’s what I had to do yesterday as we are understaffed, and I can’t just take off work. But all day, I had to stop and rest my head against things. The headaches are gross, a sickly kind of ache. They make just the thought of food or water repulsive. I was dehydrated and extremely hungry all day but couldn’t eat or drink except a few drops of water I forced myself to drink. The hunger and thirst were adding to the extreme discomfort. As soon as I got home, I had to get right into bed. I couldn’t even drink Tylenol tea and couldn’t stand to get a shower (I did today though lol). One of the worst parts is how I wanted food but at the same second did not want it or wanted to want it but just couldn’t, something like that. Anyway, my lack of desire wasn’t natural but being blocked or repressed by something.

The headache was triggered because I laid on my pillow overnight. For years now, I can’t lay on a pillow or I wake up with a debilitating headache. I like to hold the pillow in my arms as I sleep better anyway so don’t mind. The pillow does something to my neck, and it affects my head. I know not to fall asleep on my pillow. But sometimes I wake up on it anyway. I don’t realize in my sleep that I’m putting it under my head. If I wake up on it in the middle of the night, I remove it, and it’s usually good in the morning. But last night when I woke up on it, I was so sleepy, I just said what they hey, and kept it there, falling back asleep. lol BIG mistake!! I woke up SICK. It wasn’t as bad til I got into a car, and the movement pulled on my neck a certain way, which worsened it. I don’t have neck or head pain in general. Just my neck was messed up because of the pillow then the car movement jerked it and ouch! Headache intensified.

They usually only last a day. Usually the next day I wake up with them gone. Today I woke up still with the headache, but it got better and better as the day went on. Thankfully!!! So this is me expressing my gratitude lol

I hope you are having a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are! ❀️

Xoxo Kim

Happy, Happy New Year β€οΈπŸ₯³

Random pic of me! πŸ’™

In Sarah Ban Breathnach’s β€œSimple Abundance – A Daybook of Comfort and Joy,” she writes:

β€œJanuary, the month of new beginnings and cherished memories, beckons. Come, let winter weave her wondrous spell: cold, crisp, woolen-muffler days, long dark evenings of savory suppers, lively conversations, or solitary joys. Outside the temperature drops as the snow falls softly. All of nature is at peace. We should be, too. Draw hearthside. This is the month to dream, to look forward to the year ahead and the journey within.”

She also writes, β€œβ€¦time is the New Year’s bountiful blessing: three hundred sixty-five bright mornings and starlit evenings; fifty-two promising weeks; twelve transformative months full of beautiful possibilities; and four splendid seasons. a simply abundant year to be savored.” 

This is something I used to share here every year on New Year’s Eve/Day. I have always found it very inspiring. ❀️ I don’t think it applies to everyone though because it’s not cold in January in some places, and some places don’t get the diversity of four seasons. I love that we do where I am. And I love cold!! Even though I’m allergic to it. πŸ₯Ά ❄️ 🌨️

I hope you are having a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are, and Happy New Year, if that applies to you. We don’t need a new year for new beginnings, but to me there is something inspiring about a new year, like a blank slate, and the feeling in the air just feels new because of the cultural aspect, like everyone around knows it’s a new year, and it’s a popular sentiment to take that opportunity for growth and beginnings. β™₯️

Xoxo Kim πŸ’‹πŸ˜˜β€οΈ

The Agony & The Ecstasy {my true story of love, rejection, heartbreak, & healing β™₯οΈπŸ’”β™₯️} loonngg post!

Just a random pic of me because I don’t know a good pic for this post. LoL πŸ˜†

“…and then I go and spoil it all by saying something stup!d like ‘I love you.'” πŸ’•

LoL This song comes to mind when I think about this experience I’m sharing here with love & heartbreak. β€οΈπŸ’”

That day I told a woman who was hardly even an acquaintance of mine that I loved her and wanted to spend forever with her….and got rejected. Ouch! πŸ˜†

πŸ˜† Check out, “Something Stupid,” sung by Frank Sinatra, here: (I have a thing for the Oldies lol 😁)

Trigger warning ⚠️: mentions depression and s*icidal ideation, nothing graphic. I’m generally and naturally very happy but am prone to depression on and off

If you see words that are censored like “s*x,” “wh!te,” “stup!d,”… it’s because these are either words that can be triggering to some people (like if they have trauma) or can be flagged on FB or some prefer them censored like to give a privileged majority less power, like wh!te people or men/m*n. I may post some excerpts of this post on FB, copying and pasting, and don’t want an FB suspension. lol It doesn’t mean I’m against something or a prude or just weird. Also, words like stup!d and d*mb are ableist. I admit I do use them in ways that aren’t against people with intellectual differences. They are still offensive to some though, and people can report them or FB can just detect certain things and we get flagged and thrown in the FB slammer. If FB feels that men or wh!te people are being “att*cked,” (because that’s a thing πŸ˜‚ those poor men and wh!te people always being att*cked) they can suspend our account. FB cannot always detect context and just see a word and flag. Also, there are lots of punctuation errors that I really don’t care to go back and fix because this took forever and so much emotional energy to write. I don’t have the emotional energy at the moment to go back through it. I already read it over n over n over. When I have the emotional energy again to re-read it to fix the errors, it may not be for months. And this has already taken like half a year to write. Lol

The YouTube videos may not show up, but I’m including them anyway. I saw something about YouTube issues and WordPress, not sure what it’s about, maybe some copyright thing.

(yes, the title is stolen off a popular book/film. πŸ˜†But this story is all mine.)

Today is Saturday, December 31st, 2022, the day I’m publishing this here, but it’s evening here in Philadelphia, so may say it’s January 1st, 2023.

I would like to share something that I have never shared before with anyone. It’s something that happened ten and more years ago. My experience with love & rejection. I tucked it away somewhere deep within and never fully revisited it again til recently. And what a ride it was going back in time and stirring up some old stuff!

Writing this gives me life. It makes me so happy to put all my pain and love into words. To give a voice to this experience that has haunted me for years. An experience that I thought ruined me for life. An experience I thought reduced me to less of the woman I was before her. But it actually gave me more depth, substance, and gave me a story. My own unique story. I am glad for it. I just can’t wait to put my story out into the uni-verse. To give it the space it’s worthy of. For years I thought it was something to keep all inside. I thought it was bad and wrong and humiliating and should be erased out of history. I thought it should die with me. But that’s not true. It’s part of me. It happened. It molded me into what I am. And it’s ok to give it space, to give it a name, to give it life.

Too many people, always heterosexual people that I know of, claim that love is a choice, that orientation, attraction…are choices. But I can say it’s not. We can choose to nourish it, dwell on it, work at it, keep it going, or we can choose to take steps to be less engaged in it and hope the worst of it eases if we can’t have the one/s we love. We can’t flip a switch and turn it off in an instant. But we can take a step back, distance ourself, focus on everything around us, giving the love space to take the backburner and possibly fizzle out eventually or at least become dormant so it’s not always on our mind. It becomes background noise then fades into the parts of the ourselves we rarely touch. This is my story of love & rejection & heartache, and a years long journey of healing.

Why am I sharing it now? Simply because I saw a survey where one of the questions asked non heterosexual people about their first heartbreak. Some people said they did not feel ready to share their experience of first heartbreak or it was too painful. My experience with first heartbreak is boring. Sad but boring. Lol I loved a girl who moved away and had to go to a different school. But it reminded me of this experience, one of the worst heartbreaks.

I want to bring visibility to the experiences of people like me, the way we can love, to share what it’s like to love as someone who isn’t the norm. My love story isn’t unique, who doesn’t get rejected or love someone and be afraid to speak up about it, right? (Actually there are people who don’t feel love and are called aplatonic, and they’re valid too! They experience all other emotions and care about people in an impersonal way but don’t feel actual love of any kind even for family, friends, pets – they care about the well-being of others and will take care of people they need to like their kids, just don’t feel love for them) But the kind of love I experience is a bit different than the norm. And I would like to share.

To understand my story, it may help to have some background knowledge of my identity so that’s what I’m explaining first. But it’s long. So if anyone is reading and wants to just skip to the story, there’s an image way below that says “Story time.” The story is under that.


I once told a woman I loved her and basically told her I wanted to spend forever with her. And….she rejected me! Ouch, ouch, ouch!! OUCH!!! She is the only woman I got up the nerve to confess my love for. Imagine the deep pain. The rejection wasn’t on good terms. She unfriended my account.

It was devastating and humiliating and took me years to recover and get over her. I became physically ill, and it took a serious emotional toll. I thought I would never survive it.

This love that I have experienced still has an impact on me all these years later. I don’t think it can be put into words how. It just shaped me in a way that can’t be explained. Even when I rarely to never thought about it, the effect on me was always here. It’s an integral part of me. I wouldn’t be all that I am without it. It’s just one thread in the tapestry of my existence. It’s also a reflection of me, of that way that I can love, and the way I react to that love. I can’t say I’m wholeheartedly glad for the experience, but I also don’t wish it never happened.

I can tap into that love and that pain when I think about all those years ago. I can summon the thrill and the desire. I can get giddy when I let myself thoroughly remember how I loved her even though I don’t love her like that anymore, how I ached for her, how at one point, I believed she would be mine, the deep deep joy she brought me, the happiness her smile inspired in me. And I love feeling all the feels again, all these years later, but now with a barrier that wasn’t there before, a barrier that lets me experience without being too emotionally involved like before, to the point it’s destructive or agonizing. I can feel it all again without drowning in despair like all those years ago. I just love it. There are still old love songs that remind me of her. But they are no longer painful.

Though they can stir a wistful feeling and a feeling of missing that experience.

It was as beautiful as it was painful.

Writing this was not painful for me. There were a few occasions I experienced yearning, and other occasions, I was like reliving painful memories, but overall, it wasn’t a painful thing to write. I was more amused than anything, thinking of my young, clingy, desperate self back then. πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜† And there were lots of bellylaughs thinking back to all the funny things she said. I have been working on this post off & on since the beginning of June. Some occasions while writing and rereading this, I have wished things turned out differently, but ultimately don’t care.

I do admit that throughout it I kept thinking about what could have been if only… and experiencing a kind of yearning, and also have experienced fear about the fact that I can’t say for sure if I ever saw her again or saw a picture of her or even just her name, those emotions, that incredibly passionate desire for someone I can’t have, won’t come flooding back. I loved her and wanted her with a passion that can’t be put into words. The rejection and the loss brought me unspeakable pain. The loss of possibility and the loss of her online friendship. The loss of joy she brought me just to look at a picture of her smile. I knew her in person at one point but we were then just online friends.


Time has placed so much distance in the middle of us there is a protective barrier that won’t allow those old emotions to touch me in a raw way any longer. But every now and again as I wrote and reminisced , I felt curiosity, taunting me like a mischievous child egging on another child, whispering to me, “Go ahead, look her up again.” And I felt the possibility of a dam deep within me, threatening to break and unleash all the passion and pain and joy and despair and beauty and yearning of some long ago I forgot existed until recently, threatening to pull me under, like quicksand, drowning me in all the love and grief and longing, I thought I thoroughly let go all those years ago, threatening to capsize me, as if I were a lone sailboat on a deserted island, pulling me into some whirlpool until I submerge. It is not in my best interest to go on a search for her. But temptation can be quite hard to resist should I let it get out of hand. I’m trying my best to keep it at bay so I don’t go and spoil it all by doing something stup!d and finding her and letting myself love and covet her all over again, undoing all the healing and indifference to her that I worked so hard for years, to reach.

The allure of that potential thrill all over again, enticing me. I almost crave it, that youthful giddiness, the joy just a glimpse of her brought to me. The intoxication.

The ecstasy, so tempting.

But then I remember.

The agony.

And I know what’s good for me.

Curiosity k!lled the cat.

I am an asexual aromantic (aroace) woman with what are known as “lesbian leanings/tendencies.” I only came to understand this around three years ago, at thirty -three years old. When we don’t experience a basic emotion or attraction that nearly everyone else in the world does, it’s hard to pinpoint the fact that we don’t. We usually know something is going on (or not going on πŸ˜†), but can’t really say what.

Please do not ask me about my “symptoms” or “diagnosis.” I’m not sick. I don’t have symptoms and was not diagnosed. I don’t “have” asexuality. I AM asexual. It’s my identity, part who I am. I’m so over the microaggressions of ignorant, even if well intentioned, people.

Aromantic means I don’t experience romantic attraction. And asexual means I don’t experience sexual attraction. I don’t “catch feels” in the traditional sense. I have never been into dating and don’t get crushes. Not all aromantic people are asexual. We can be homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual/pansexual…

Romantic relationships have always seemed very “other” to me, something I never understood, something I don’t have access to. I never fully understood why people cry over romantic breakups but could if they did over friendship loss. I always saw romantic love as inferior and saw two friends in a movie falling in love as a downgrade. I would be offended when male friends of mine would fall for me, romantically, thinking they now loved me less or were using me. I knew on some level but did not consciously know or know how to articulate that I do not experience romantic attraction/love. I don’t experience the beauty of it so did not realize all along that romantic love/attraction isn’t inferior to platonic. I see looking back how my aromanticism has interfered with my empathy. Not compassion, I still felt sorry and wished people the best when they had romance problems but couldn’t quite get it. I did not understand why divorce is so painful and considered terrible. I thought surely losing a best friend of even only a few months after an argument is WAY worse than losing a husband to divorce after 30 years. It’s “just” romantic! I understand now after learning of my own aromantic identity. I have no idea what it feels like but now understand better intellectually. I always wondered why everyone is so obsessed. I used to think it’s “just” romantic. Now I understand.

And asexual people can be homoromantic, aromantic, heteroromantic, biromantic…I turned out both asexual and aromantic but have strong homoromantic leanings(this is just what I call them). I only understand sexual attraction as a concept. I have never felt it, myself. I grew up feeling that something is off and missing but couldn’t say what. No one explains what sexual attraction or desire is because everyone assumes everyone will begin to feel it and just know. But one percent of us don’t. And we grow up usually feeling broken and mortified and confused. We don’t experience it to understand all the vague references we hear around us. I had no idea in a defined way that there is a feeling (sexual desire/being horny) that nearly everyone feels and that that is what’s driving people to seek sexual activity. Of course I heard talk about it and references but since I don’t experience it had no idea exactly what is going on. So there’s a feeling that most people get making them want sexual contact with someone else’s body, can be a specific person or just a feeling of I want s*x. Amazing! I was so confused for so long. Imagine if everywhere you go people are kissing blank wh!te walls and ohh and ahhing over these walls and obsessed and all they talk about are these walls and can’t keep their hands off the walls and you’re just like wth, what is driving this? No one tells us there’s a feeling nearly everyone else has that some don’t. We literally have no idea what “she’s hot/sexy” means. We think it means pretty and often don’t understand how that makes someone want sexual activity with the person. To us, it’s like looking at a beautiful sunset, to see a pretty person.

I did not know til somewhat recently that romantic feelings almost always include sexual feelings and that most couples engage in sexual activity with each other, like that it goes without saying if we meet a romantic couple, they do or at least have together, or that someone can become physically aroused or have a fluid reaction in their pants (I laughed hysterically upon finding this out and had to ask my little sister if it’s true – she confirmed it is – so so glad I’m ace!!). I did know most people have sexual feelings and get it on, just did not realize the extent to which romantic automatically also includes/means sexual. It’s very common asexual people don’t realize this because again, no one explains it in detail as everyone assumes we all experience it or will. We grew up not having this experience so don’t have our own experience to reference like most do. Thank goddess I’m ace.

Most asexual people are s*x indifferent or repulsed and don’t want it with anyone. I am s*x repulsed with men. Gag me with a spoon already!! And s*x indifferent with women. No thanks, don’t want it, but the thought of it doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin and get like fifty showers. LoL I pretended to like men to not be seen as a freak. The thought that I had to grow up and date, touch, bang, marry men, or be seen as a freak, would sometimes trigger s*icidal depression in me.

Asexuality.org

I experience emotional, sensual, and aesthetic attractions to women only, and no attraction to men. I don’t experience sexual attraction to anyone or any sexual desire at all, never have. I understand it only intellectually. I never felt it firsthand. We are usually born this way. It does not mean no physical libido. If an asexual person has a physical libido, for most, it doesn’t translate to “I want s*x.” It’s just a physical sensation.

I have never felt the feeling of “I want s*x.” I have no idea what that must feel like. This used to bring me so much anxiety and humiliation. Not that itself but what others would think and not being able to relate. I used to pretend to feel it so people wouldn’t think I’m a freak. I would google what does it feel like so I can try to seem to fit in. Even as an adult. Reading about it did not help me understand firsthand. For me to understand what sexual desire must feel like I imagine being hungry and emotionally wanting food along with the physical sensation of hunger. I can’t imagine it though for someone else’s body. Sometimes if I haven’t had much food for at least two days, I am ravenous and could devour food in a second. One day I got soup at wawa after having almost no food for a couple days. I was shoveling it into my mouth walking up Market street thinking this is what horny must be like but for someone else’s body. I kind of understand to a point. Also, I can be “horny” for hugs or cuddles with another woman, either a specific one or just wishing there were another woman with me to touch, and use that as a reference to imagine if it were sexual. It helps a bit.

Indication of asexuality πŸ˜†

Romantic and sexual attractions usually go together for the average person but asexual and aromantic people may experience one and not the other. It makes sense to us even if it doesn’t to you. I understand most people don’t separate and can’t imagine how they can be separated, but an asexual person may look at someone and fall in love, get butterflies, all the feels, want to get married, just not have sexual feels for the person or anyone. You know how little elementary school aged kids can get a little crush on another kid that of course isn’t sexual but is different than how they like their friends? You know how a little girl can blush over a little boy and think he’s cute in a way she doesn’t with any friends she plays with? Some of us stay this way all throughout adulthood, the sexual never manifests. It’s always I want to hold her hand, cuddle her, do life together…but the sexual never develops.

And aromantic people may look at someone and think wow sexy, I want to hit that but not have those warm sappy romantic feels, no desire to date or get married.

What I am can be referred to as an aroace lesbian or bambi lesbian (isn’t this adorable? LoL). I’m a bit hesitant to use these terms though because real lesbians sometimes get offended (though I think most don’t mind, and see us as valid). They say it invalidates them or that there’s no such thing or that they suffer more than us because of their sexuality (how society regards them) and we shouldn’t invalidate that by using their label, lesbian. And stuff like that. They say we should just admit we want a girl best friend and nothing “more.”
Asexual flag πŸ–€πŸ’œ

Possible Signs of Asexuality – Part 1: About You

https://www.asexuality.org/

I always could sense that something is present in everyone else and not me. A few years ago, I learned more about asexuality. I always knew about it since a teenager but did not realize sexual attraction is what I lack to realize it’s me. People have always sensed something is different about me and I have been ridiculed and mocked and called “prude, virgin” and stuff. I used to be s*icidal sometimes because I thought I was the only one like this and couldn’t explain it. I kept it a deep, dark secret. I always felt kind of gay but nahh.

πŸ˜‚

I remember occasionally secretly wishing I was gay so I can have a woman instead of a man. πŸ˜† Women are soft, lovely, delicate, and warm. They are kissable and cuddly and adorable. Men are not. LoL And women (even bad@$$ babes) usually have a sensitivity, a gentleness, about them that even the most sensitive men don’t. It’s just the nature is so different. I always secretly wondered why women are into men when other women exist. Like why are you looking at him when there’s a gorgeous babe right over there?! πŸ˜‚

In case anyone needs convincing. πŸ˜† (It’s me!) You’re telling me you would prefer to cuddle and look at a man over this?? 😭

It’s a common misconception that aromantic asexual people cannot feel emotions very very deeply for other people and cannot experience heartbreak. We absolutely can. There are other ways to love than just romantic and sexual. Not all aromantic people experience emotional attraction or deep friendship love, but many do.

I can fall deeply in love (with women) like it’s my job. πŸ˜† Lol I’m always catching girl crushes everywhere I go (girl crushes are platonic – heterosexual women can get them too lol). It’s just not romantic.

How cute is this?! πŸ’•

My love story, below, is about alterous attraction, a very intense emotional attraction that many aromantic people experience in place of romantic.


Alterous attraction/love, just like romantic/sexual, is not a choice.

People of any sexual orientation may experience it, but it’s usually aromantic people, I think. If you’re not aro and you develop deep feels for someone, you’re probably just going to go all out and catch full on romantic feels. LoL πŸ˜†


Here is what alterous attraction is:


“Alterous attraction is a type of attraction, much like romantic or sexual attraction. However, this term describes the desire to be emotionally close to someone in a way that is neither exclusively platonic nor wholly romantic, but rather somewhere in the middle. Some describe it as the orientation related to the grey area between platonic and romantic attraction, and it is sometimes described as simply ‘the intense desire for (emotional) closeness.’ This term is often used within and associated with the aro-ace community.
As mentioned in the introduction, alterous refers to a way of feeling attracted to someone similar to platonic and romantic attractions. This means that one form of being attracted to someone can exist parallel to another: someone can, for instance, be bisexual, aromantic, and panalterous. Alterous attraction – much like romantic – uses the prefixes hetero-, homo-, a-, pan-, etc.

You can also speak of an alterous orientation, which, much like its sexual or romantic counterparts, is defined by whom you are attracted to in this way; as such, who you want to be emotionally close with, determines what your alterous orientation is. The alterous counterpart to a crush is called a squish, a hush, or a mesh. These terms are not, however, very widely used.

Alterous is derived from the same root as words such as ‘to alter’ or ‘an alternative.’ All these words come from the same Latin root of ‘alternare,’ which means ‘to change, to interchange.’ As such, in a literal sense, the term could be defined as ‘a descriptor for an alternative type of attractions’ or just ‘other attractions.’

So that’s alterous attraction! It’s like I want you as my person but doesn’t really have to be defined as platonic or romantic.

I always thought that this alterous attraction I experience was like a strange quirk of mine, never realized it’s a real thing and more experience it. Since I was a young girl, I would daydream about having two women (not necessarily any specific women, though sometimes) who were close to me and my most important people. One would be like a sister and the other would be a bit different. This one I would imagine myself hugging more and holding hands with, being each other’s main person, connecting more emotionally with. I couldn’t understand the difference in my head and why I longed for both if both are platonic. I used to imagine both of them having a romantic partner since most eventually do, and I thought that’s how it’s always going to be. Turns out the one is alterous! It can be called having a mesh instead of having a crush. The platonic one is called having a squish on someone, meaning wanting to be very close platonic friends, not just liking someone platonically but actively wanting a very close friendship with the person. I only get these on women/women aligned people, though I can definitely be close friends with a man. It can’t reach the depth I can have with a woman though.


I am homoalterous – deep emotional attraction to other women that can inspire me to want a very close relationship to them that isn’t quite romantic but closer or more interconnected than platonic usually is. It’s usually aromantic people who experience it (though not all do) in place of romantic attraction.

homoaesthetic many asexual people experience aesthetic attraction in place of sexual, we can want to check them out and stare them up and down, but it doesn’t have a sexual aspect or trigger physical arousal – I can stare at women/fem presenting people all day long

I got this bruise because a large puppy at work jumped on me!

lesbisensual – sensual attraction to only other women, cuddles, kisses, hand holding, skin caresses, massages…Only women are cuddly and kissable to me Most people experience sensual attraction along with romantic and sexual attractions. But some aromantic/asexual people can experience it without those other attractions. Like I don’t want to date or bang you but we can cuddle and kiss (keep that tongue in your mouth though eww lol) and lay together all night. LoL I don’t kiss with the tongue but will give sweet kisses all over

aromantic, asexualI don’t like anyone sexually or romantically

I identify as a lesbian oriented aroace or aroace lesbian or bambi lesbian (a lot of actual lesbians seem to know what a Bambi lesbian is, but most people do not). Or sometimes just asexual lesbian when I’m not up for explaining the complicated (to others, not to me) thing of all the attractions or aspects. Some people cannot grasp the whole thing but can grasp “lesbian who just isn’t into s*x.” Though, seems most cannot even grasp that. If I was in a brief social situation where it’s just not convenient to get into the whole thing, lesbian is good enough. I don’t mind people just thinking I’m a gay woman. Though I like to bring visibility to my actual identity. And if I’m going to be close to people, it would be good if they eventually know what I am.

People tell me how “lucky” I am to be asexual because I’ll “never know true heartbreak.” They have no idea. Just because love isn’t sexual doesn’t mean it isn’t love or is less deep. No, I did not want to see her with no clothing on or play with each other’s junk/swap bodily fluids, never pictured her naked, and was never aroused by her. None of my daydreams or fantasies of her (and I had many) were even slightly sexual, ever. Sensual (cuddles, holding close, hair strokes..), but not sexual. But I would have taken a bullet for her even if I wasn’t a universal lover who would do that for just about anyone. The years it took me to recover. I was in shambles. Thought I would never ever be whole again.

I knew her in person for like two years, then never saw her in person again but came across her around four years later online (I stayed in love with her those four years of not seeing her at all in person or online, carried a flame all those years, frequently thinking of her, it would mellow out a bit on occasion, take the back burner then come back strongly) and became online friends, not really interacting much with each other, though we did have a few online chats on her posts. Sometimes I would respond to something she posted, and she would respond to me leading to a conversation. A while after becoming online friends and exchanging a few comments and likes here and there, I sent her two long messages, basically telling her I loved her and just how strong my love for her was, how I loved her for years, how I thought of her frequently and was so inspired by her and made better because I knew her. She did not respond and unfriended my account. I kept looking at hers for two years after that(update, actually it was three years). Then stopped because it was too painful, but still thought about her and loved her for a couple more. I thought about her frequently and wished she was mine. I think I mentioned somewhere that I still lived a happy life, just carried this pain, love, and longing for a few years. It would wax and wane til it began to fade and then fizzle out completely.

I’m going to correct a mistake here. I think a couple places throughout this writing I mention that I stalked her account for two years then for three more years after that still actively loved her but stopped looking at her social media accounts, just frequently thought of her. Actually I stalked her social media/YouTube/blog accounts for THREE years after the rejection and then stopped and actively loved her for two. lol I remember now being 30 years old (just over three years after sending her the long messages of my undying love) and having a new job (my current job!) as a pet nanny and looking at her accounts thinking she would be impressed by my new job because she loves animals too. lol I remember thinking if only she would give me a chance, she would see how we both love them and I work with them now. She was always posting pictures of her cat and chihuahuas. One day my boss did not put my schedule on yet for the next day, and it was late into the night already and I thought maybe I lost my new job already and he never said (that wasn’t it, he just never got around to it yet lol But back then I had anxiety over every little thing about it as it was a new job I wasn’t accustomed to yet). I remember looking through her Instagram account, sitting on the stairs in my house, looking at her beautiful face, thinking what would she think of me that I couldn’t hold my new job. She was a safe person and lost jobs herself so I knew she would actually have compassion and understanding but still wished I could have kept the job and get to tell her all about it. It was after that that I stopped stalking her online but still loved her deeply for a couple more years. I stopped for a while first then caved and went back to it, then stopped completely. It has been four years since I actively loved her. But it feels like much longer. I don’t feel like going back and correcting my mistakes where I messed up on the years so just clearing that up here. lol

Trigger warning ⚠️: mention of r*pe, not my experience but hers



Here is my true story.

It was September.

And it was love at first sight.

She was laughing when I first saw her across the room. The gentle fluorescent light, playing up the highlights in her hair. I was instantly drawn in by her physical beauty. It caught me off guard. I see beautiful women everywhere and am distracted and moved. But this one was especially beautiful. She was breathtaking. I couldn’t peel my eyes away.

And her playfulness added to it. She was laughing and joking when I first encountered her. The way she threw her head back and laughed deeply, hysterically at something simple someone said, I was spellbound. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was like the rest of the world fell away and there was only her. And she was all I wanted, all I needed.

Even as I write this now, I feel a stirring of sorts in my chest as I remember that feeling and how it was just the beginning of what would become a tumultuous years long journey of passionate love, longing, ecstasy, and agony.

I found myself moving to get closer to her. To breathe her air, to bask in her ways, to better hear her voice. I made my way over without being noticed. I found myself staring, smiling ear to ear. I remember thinking somewhere deep within that this one was made to be mine.

I just felt she was going to have some significance in my world. And she did. She wrecked my world completely. Brought me to ruin. I thought I would never recover, never claw myself out of the debris of my crumbled life and self.

She was a small, wh!te woman, with messy, wavy brown hair that fell, softly, to her shoulders. Brown/green eyes. Maybe hazel, if I remember correctly. I can’t believe I don’t really remember. But I remember they were warm and loving.

I could tell she was quite a bit older than me, around forty years old, so almost twenty years (I was a 20 something college girl) but I am not someone who feels an age difference when interacting with people older than me, even when I was a young woman/girl. I don’t typically see people as “older people” unless they’re like old old, like maybe 80 something years old. The age difference never fazed me.


She wore glasses and looked adorable. She came off as humble and welcoming. Her clothes were what some may call “frumpy,” loose, sweat kind of clothes. I found it pleasing. Later I found that she also dressed up a lot, in girly, dressy clothes. But she had no problem dressing down in public, sometimes even when she would attend conferences and give speeches in front of lots of people, she would dress in sweat clothes. She would laugh about it and say how terrible she looked (she totally did not!). I found her even more beautiful dressed down with no makeup, hair messy.

There was something sophisticated seeming about her. She had an air about her. I already got the feeling she was intellectual, intelligent, before I knew anything about her. The way she carried herself, the book bag around her shoulder, the book in her arms. She seemed deep and aware. I was correct. I later found out she was a teacher/college instructor, and writer and editor for some blogs and local news articles. She did workshops on writing and stuff like that. There was no hint of arrogance whatsoever. She was very successful with education and career. She did not have much money or health insurance though and felt this was an indication of being a failure in life.

I could tell she had a sense of humor because of her frequent, wholehearted laugh while interacting with people. This was something I fell in love with right away. A woman who can laugh, and deeply, with abandon. She was very social. Extroverted. She touched people frequently, pats on the back, hand on their arms. Reaching out to pull someone aside if she wanted to talk to them. She laughed at everything they said, joked, playful insults back and forth with the people she was with, funny sarcasm. She was witty and could take a joke. She loved risque jokes and inappropriate stuff, like I do, and wasn’t easily offended. She could be a perv like me. LoL

This, along with her physical attractiveness, made her irresistible to me. She had a soft smile on her face when I first saw her. She wasn’t looking at me and did not even know I was there. I felt something instantly for her. I wanted to make her mine. I knew I had to know more.

One day, I found her singing. Her voice was soft, soothing, gentle, like the voice of an angel, caressing all the depths of my being. Hauntingly beautiful. I could tell her singing was inspired by a place of deep pain. Not temporary pain. I could tell she knew a life of persistent or recurring pain. I don’t remember the words. The words weren’t important. It was the soft melancholy ache in her voice, in the passion of her song. It was as if there was a wellspring of sorrow within her, driving that kind of singing. It resonated with the ache in me. I had no idea she could sing like that. She was also able to pull off various accents. Very talented in so many ways.

I remember her talking about how she was always attracted to blonde girls and also jealous of them. She always wished she had blonde hair. She always felt like blonde haired girls were inherently more beautiful than her and out of her league and always saw them as stuck up. She was secretly in love with a pretty blonde haired girl in high school. I remember she would tell stories about unpleasant encounters with blonde haired girls and she would say “well ok, Blondie” or “f*ck you too, Blondie.” It made me laugh. (Maybe I had the wrong hair color all along πŸ˜†)



I thought she was perfect.

And this made me love her.

I got to know her more and more and realized she wasn’t perfect.

And this made me love her so much more.

She was perfect to me.

Perfect for me.

She’s the one I wanted by my side for the rest of this life.

Arrogantly, I thought I was perfect for her too and that she would agree. This is where I went so so wrong and suffered immense heartbreak. For years I thought she broke it, but it was all my own doing, letting myself be so dependent on the expectation that I would be someone to her when in reality she wanted nothing at all to do with me. And the not knowing why and the wondering nearly k!lled me.

I remember that feeling. The feeling that I found her. It stirs something in me now. It’s not her anymore who gives me that feeling, just the memory making emotions resurface, and the fact that it can happen again as I have the ability to experience this. A kind of nostalgic and anticipatory thrill. And I like it.

She was everything I thought she was and more. Compassionate. Intellectual. Deep. Hilarious (like incredibly hilarious, I imagined us laughing for hours together). Just as beautiful on the inside as the outside. Political. Progressive. Educated. Determined. Strong. All this and more. She was generally respectful while engaging with people who were difficult or ignorant, but she could be snarky and snippy.

I found myself on occasion, wondering how this incredible woman wasn’t already mine. How on Earth I’m just finding her now. It felt that we have and should have already known each other for years (I told her that once online, and she liked my comment). I’m not a believer in an afterlife of any sort but truly, I felt I have loved and known her in life after life. That we were bound together, made for each other by the heavens above, some cosmic force or magic holding us together.

I thought of her frequently when she wasn’t around. She was always on my mind. Whenever our paths crossed, I was overjoyed and ecstatic. My whole body would become energized. I would get giddy for the rest of the day and not know what to do with myself. I never told anyone about my secret love. Not family or close friends. I had no idea how to explain it. I wanted her as my person. My one for life. It wasn’t confusing. It made sense to me. But there was no word for it. No word for the kind of love I felt for her, the kind of relationship I wanted with her. (Turns out, there is! Alterous or queerplatonic, but those terms weren’t around back then) I knew it wasn’t romantic.

I loved her and wanted her to be mine. And that was all. I wanted her by my side all life long. It wasn’t the traditional “I want to date her” or “take her out” and there were no thoughts of “building a future together” or living together or even “growing old together.” And there was nothing sexual about it at all.

Even as time went on, I did not ever imagine us ever living together or adopting dogs together (we both did not want kids but always dogs & cats), or going on vacations together (she loved vacations to other countries and stuff and I never thought of wanting to join her), my daydreams and fantasies were more like visiting each other, sleeping over (non sexually, but like staying up all night talking and reading together, laying in bed together, in each other’s arms, curling up on a sofa and watching movies, drinking tea) with each other, walking around the city doing what we love, my fantasies often became sensual (cuddles, hand holding, head on each other’s shoulders, holding her close…I don’t have this inclination for most people, and never for men. This is something I found a bit curious since I was identifying as hetero but could tell I’m not gay or not fullblown and this did not seem very hetero) But nothing sexual ever even crossed my mind(for her or anyone else in all of my 36 years).

I would often try to suppress the sensual desire/daydreams/fantasies because it seemed to contradict the label I was identifying as, heterosexual. The whole thing seemed to contradict it, but there was no denying my love for women. Heterosexual women don’t usually want a defined, long-term sensual relationship with another woman or fantasize, sensually, about other women. They may be physically affectionate in general with their women friends, but that’s different, and I could tell on some level. So I would just try to go easy on the sensual fantasies/feelings. Sometimes I would imagine women crying and me trying to comfort with holding and back rubs and hair strokes…it was my excuse to imagine touching another woman but being normal about it. I did not realize til some self exploration a long while later that that’s why l would frequently imagine women crying and me comforting them. It was really that I wanted to touch them but wasn’t ready to face that. Of course, I can comfort women that way and it’s one hundred percent just consoling. Just in my head, I wanted a valid/acceptable reason for fantasizing about other women and believed simply wanting to touch them in sensual/emotional ways wasn’t both because of homophobia and the fact that I’m not fully gay and did not understand it back then.

(This repression of what I am, deeply wounded me, and only somewhat recently have I begun to realize and consciously feel the full extent of how wounded I am, growing up being told by everyone and society as a whole that I had to love and touch men. To constantly be asked “Do you have a boyfriend/husband?” “What do you look for in a man?” Men just asking me out and coming onto me without knowing/checking if I even like men. People just assuming any male friend of mine is a boyfriend/romantic/sexual interest.

They gave me no space or permission to love other women or to love no one at all the way society is so hung up on everyone loving. To have to suppress and repress so much of myself, an essential part of me, because society says girls should necessarily love boys, and boys only, is deeply painful. To suppress and repress my inclination for other women. And to have to suppress my asexuality and pretend to be sexual is deeply painful and mortifying. So often, I was humiliated and feeling as if I was going against my own nature just pretending. It’s just so unnatural and so repulsive to imagine loving, touching, pining for a man.)

I daydreamed about accompanying her to all events she attended. I wanted to be the one she automatically brought everywhere with her, without even being asked. Like it’s just understood, if she gets an invitation to a wedding, I’m her “plus one/date.” I don’t have this inclination with friends in general. It wasn’t in a clingy way. I wanted to be hers, and those things come along with being someone’s.

I wanted everyone to automatically think of the other one of us when they saw or thought of one of us. I wanted everyone to know we belong to each other. I thought of it as them thinking of us as super close best friends, even closer than most best friends. That’s how I wanted us to be forever.

I remember thinking she was so so amazing and beautiful that people would be impressed by me that she was mine, that they would think how lucky I was to have this beautiful amazing woman by my side, always. That’s not why I wanted her, but I admit I did like the idea of everyone being amazed by me because I got her. I thought they would all wonder how I got so lucky. I wanted to show her off to everyone, to show the world what was mine.


I wanted to know each other deeply and be extremely emotionally invested in each other for the rest of forever. I wanted to tell each other everything and know each other in and out. To be each other’s main person and source of emotional connection. I still wanted some boundary though, to have separate lives. I did not want anything to do with each other’s finances or living situations. And it wouldn’t have mattered to me if she was in a romantic relationship as long as there was room in her heart and life for me. I did not want to be “as one” or do things “as a couple.” I don’t have this inclination for anyone. There goes the aro in me!

The love I had for her was different than the love I had for my close friends. It was more “obsessive” (not literally legit obsessed but for lack of a better word, maybe “invested” is better lol) and layered and had a physical effect on me. It energized me and sometimes made my heart race. I can have this when I experience deep platonic love/attraction but only for women. I get the biggest girl crushes! LoL When I get girl crushes, they aren’t sensual. What I had for this woman can be. Also, I don’t typically daydream about spending nights together when it’s platonic like when I have an alterous “crush” or love thing going on. I can imagine falling asleep with a woman and waking up, spending the morning in bed just laying close, touching non sexually. Very sensual but not sexual. When I love a woman in a soul sister kind of way, it’s just as deep and consuming but not sensual or anything like that. Alterous, for me, is like platonic based but hints of romantic traits maybe, or hints of something that is akin to romantic but not full-blown. I can accept if someone is more important to them than I am if I’m still up top on their list but prefer if I’m their #1. Lol

Eventually, as my emotional attraction to her deepened, it inspired sensual inclination, wanting to wrap my arms around her, kiss her cheek, stroke her hair….There was no swooning or butterflies or magnetic feeling. There was no feeling in the gut like a rollercoaster, even when I first met her. I did not feel like I would go insane or explode on days I did not see her. I did go out of my way to try to see her though and hope to see her again soon. There wasn’t really a feeling of like “wanting to be around her literally all the time” like people say romantic attraction is like. It was more like just wanting to know we are each other’s person throughout life and see each other often.

I very much looked forward to seeing her again, but it wasn’t a feeling like I just have to absolutely be around her, constantly. I wanted us to be important enough to each other that we saw each other frequently and loved her company and missed her when she wasn’t around me. But it wasn’t exactly the same as the romantics talk about. I could bear to be apart for a while as long as I knew I would see her again and that we were each other’s.

Just seeing her for part of a day was enough to carry me for the rest of the day and into the next. But there was a deep deep longing to belong to each other, to be each other’s everything(I have always wanted to be someone’s everything but knowing I likely never would be as someone who doesn’t experience romantic love; even before I understood this in a conscious way, I knew, and I knew that society favors sexual/romantic love and relationships. While I accept it in general, it has often brought me so much pain to know I will never be wholeheartedly loved because even if someone loves me, there will always be someone more important, a more important kind of love that I cannot feel. It’s like society telling me I am inherently flawed and unlovable, even as a little girl, this crushed me There are occasions it feels like being inadequate as a person or a human or as a woman or as a life partner or potential life partner to someone, because of lacking something so fundamental and essential to everyone else. Sometimes I’m in a low mood and someone compliments me, on my physical beauty or my personality, my love and care for animals, my kindness…and I’ll just think so what, that doesn’t make up for not being adequate for the most important relationship {romantic/sexual} to society. It doesn’t make up for being unlovable, undatable {not that I’m looking to date, but it’s not pleasant to be told that} I’m regarded as an inferior human, sometimes not even human. People have told me things to suggest this, and it’s just society’s message in general. Some people straight up say we aren’t human.).

I loved the secret longing. It gave me a thrill, particularly because there was always that possibility we would eventually belong to each other. After the rejection, years later, that thrill was mostly gone, the thrill she may someday be mine and was replaced by deep pain, sometimes life draining pain, but the thrill of loving her and knowing someone so beautiful exists, remained. I would see her, randomly, and make it a point to walk by her, hoping she would notice and think I’m pretty or interesting. But she never did. If I would see her walking a certain direction, I would walk that way, hoping to run into her. If I saw her having lunch with people, I would sit close by, hoping she would notice, and also just to be in her presence.

But she did not really know I existed(literally she did but it felt like she did not). When I met her face to face, she did not seem as smitten with me as I was with her. She seemed to like me, just not actively interested in being my friend, it seemed. She was polite and friendly with me, but nothing more. I was very shy and did not know how to initiate anything and was too shy to often begin conversations with her. Once in a while I got up the nerve to try but did not know how to really express how interested in her I was, did not know how to form a friendship. All my friends were people who showed interest in me first and introduced me to their friends and then we became friends. This woman did not show interest in being more than an acquaintance, if even that. Sometimes she would see me and come to say hello and ask how I am. She would sometimes tell me what kind of day she was having or plans for her Saturday night (which was often staying at home reading a book/watching a movie and drinking wine). I would ask her questions about herself or her day/weekend, and she would respond and ask me a couple things, and that would be it. It never went anywhere, and I did not know how to direct it somewhere.

If you’re romantically interested in someone, you can ask them on a date or even to be your girlfriend. If you have a coworker you really like as a platonic friend, you can ask if they want to get together for coffee or a drink after work. But I had no idea what I even wanted her to be to me(definitely wasn’t thinking in terms of “girlfriend.”). My person? My woman? My love? My everything? All of that. But I could tell it wasn’t romantically driven. I can hardly walk up to a woman I hardly know (And actually even if we do know each other but aren’t very close) and ask her to be my everything. LoL

We did not really know each other in the context where I could ask to hang out or something, like if we were coworkers or something. Even then, I likely wouldn’t have had the nerve. Some people would be bold enough to ask someone to hang out in the context in which I knew her, but I wasn’t. Sometimes I would plan on meeting up with her, chatting, then asking if she would like to exchange phone numbers. It wouldn’t have been completely bizarre. We did talk to each other, attend some of the same events and meetings, have mutual acquaintances…but I just did not have the nerve. It felt out of place. She was closer and more like friends with our acquaintances. They were not shy like I am and just naturally formed a friendship with her because of their outgoing natures. I felt like I had to force it. They would walk up and hug her (OMG i was so jelly lol) or playfully throw an arm around her or pat her on the back or tell jokes with her. They were all buddy buddy with her(some of them were with me too). I so wanted to. I had the inclination. But me being as shy and reserved as I am, it would have been so out of place. When people are naturally social butterflies, they can get away with doing things in social situations that may seem strange if a typically quiet reserved person just ups and does the same. Often people mistake my shyness as me lacking interest, which isn’t the case.

I was put in a psychiatric hospital and released a few months after I met her. I fell into an episode of depression at the end of December for no particular reason, though rooted in a painful social experience as a kid, and at the end of January was still in it. I was very s*icidal. (The initial onset of my depressive condition at thirteen years old was because of social exclusion when girls who were my friends kept not including me then took whatever new friends I got and got them to be friends with them and I had no one – now I still have the disorder even though it’s no longer about that) Unfortunately my closest friend back then blabbed to everyone we knew, everyone, even people we hardly knew, without my permission. It got around to everyone in our social circle and anyone who knew of us. I was absolutely mortified. Everyone, even near strangers came up to express compassion to me. I wanted to die. I thought the stress of it was going to send me right back to that hospital. She was one of the ones to come up to express her compassion. Under different circumstances, I would have been thrilled(I actually was thrilled still but not the same as if I wasn’t just out of a psychiatric hospital and mortified); I was hardly able to contain my joy as she approached me unexpectedly. I had no idea she knew and wasn’t aware what she was coming to say. I just saw the woman I loved making it a point to walk over to me like she was on a mission.

Trigger warning ⚠️: brief mention of r*pe next

She told me about her own struggle with depression and s*icide attempts. She hugged me and told me she understood. She told me she was r*ped years before by a man she knew and liked and trusted and it destroyed her life but she was working on herself constantly to be better. I experienced this incredibly deep connection to her connecting through shared pain and motivation for healing. I loved being in her arms even if only for a few seconds. It was a heartfelt hug. The compassion and concern in her eyes and voice were real. I can feel it now, my heart melting in my chest, the warm fuzzies. The feeling of wanting to collapse into each other’s arms and hold on to each other forever, never letting go. Here was the woman I loved. Standing before me, trusting me enough to reveal her deepest, darkest pain and show a sense of solidarity so that I would have a bit of comfort and love. I had no idea how to react. Back then I was just 21 years old and much more shy than I am now. I stayed mostly quiet and we sat together in comfortable silence. It was one of the most deepest connections I have ever experienced with anyone, not even just because I loved her, but just two women sharing our experiences good and not so good and just trying to survive while trying to help each other do the same. Years later I mentioned to her the incredible impact this encounter with her had on me and still did all those years later. I will never forget it. It’s the only good thing that ever came of my friend blabbing. I only knew her for four months but felt like I have known and loved her forever. I truly couldn’t have loved her more if we knew each other for decades. Time doesn’t matter when it has to do with love. I firmly believe when you know you know. And I knew.

Over a year later, in April, I experienced another episode that was still going a month later, and was hospitalized again. She again expressed compassion. It was me who told her so wasn’t mortifying and since I knew about her struggle also, it was very safe. She told me about her recurring episodes as well, and like me she had mini episodes or waves sometimes in the middle of each major episode. And sometimes a persistent lower grade depression that doesn’t go away for a while. I’m usually happy in the middle of my episodes, but sometimes the waves can be frequent, particularly when I don’t have close friends but can happen sometimes anyway. She was so gentle and warm and so caring. Oh, how I loved her so and just loved so much to be in her presence, to bask in her beauty, to feel her energy all around me. She truly was my everything.

I did not tell my friends about her, ever. I just did not know how to explain it to anyone and knew it’s not “normal.” I knew I was “supposed” to go all ga ga over men, not women. All my friends were LGBTQ people, but they thought I was heterosexual. I just couldn’t explain it. I thought of it as wanting her as a “special friend.” I wondered why even when I had close friends, I longed for a “special friend.” I couldn’t understand the difference but knew there is one.

I felt guilty and like a fraud, like an imposter. My friends all thought I was a heterosexual ally to their community. I could tell I wasn’t into men but did not know how to consciously think it in words because I knew I wasn’t into women either, the exact way my friends who were gay women were, and I had no idea not liking anyone that way was an option for me. Like everyone else, I thought I had to like like someone, and if I don’t like women, I must like men. That would be the logical thing. And society tells me I love and should love men, so I took that label.

Just a random pic of me πŸ–€ There’s so much text so some pics may help make that more bearable lol and what better subject than me for a post about me! 😁

It was easier to consciously say/think/know I don’t like like women because society tells me I don’t, that I’m not supposed to. It’s programed into my head since birth that I will love men, that I do love men, that I should love men, not other women. It’s explicitly said, and it’s said in all the mundane nuances and occasions and encounters of each day, in every “Do you have a boyfriend?” “What do you look for in a man?” “Your future husband…” “We have to get Kim a boyfriend” “All women love a man who…” “What was your last boyfriend like?” “Just wait til you meet that special guy and fall in love….” “He’s cute, you should ask him out/accept his invitation…” “There’s no way you can know you’re not pregnant, there’s always that small chance…” “What kind of birth control do you use?”…. and on and on and on and on…

The gay women I knew would go into detail about their sexual and romantic experiences and desires. Some of it resonated with me, the emotional, sensual, aesthetic aspects, but I could tell for them it was very different in some way. I wondered if I could be gay but felt not gay enough to actually be. If I would contrast my inclination for women to my complete lack of it for men, I could totally feel gay, but if I compare my inclination for other women to the inclination gay women have for them, it’s not fully the same. Some aspects are but not completely. So this was a very confusing situation to be in. Like wtf am I? I had no idea I was (am) lacking sexual and full-blown romantic attraction but still experiencing other attractions, like emotional and sensual. And no clue there’s a label for what I am and that there are more like me and we have always existed.

My friend would joke around and point out another woman and say hey Kim would you do her? And my other friend would say I don’t think so because Kim is straight!!! And I would just laugh while secretly thinking “Am I though???” Just hearing her say that felt very unnatural to me, not even in a negative way, just felt like no, that’s not me. I would look at the heterosexual women in our group and think no I’m not what they are, but then I would look at the gay women and think but I’m not exactly what they are either, even though I felt more at home with them in that sense.

I knew my love for this woman wasn’t romantic but just as deep, unconditional, passionate. There were no words to explain. But as I said, it wasn’t confusing. It felt like the most normal thing in the world to me. Love is love. Does the nature of it really matter or a label for it? It is what it is.

I also had inclination for calling her and thinking of her as Baby, sweetheart, honey, love, darling, babe…as terms of endearment or affection, something I only rarely experience and when I do only for women. I did call her that occasionally while commenting on her pictures and stuff. So did others. I can in platonic ways for women but don’t usually. And not everyone likes pet names so I wouldn’t most likely now even if I wanted to.


Just seeing her sent some joy and ecstasy through me, like electricity. I became full of excessive energy and very talkative with my friends, laughing hysterically at everything everyone said. My smile hurt my face. It was like getting a “fix” for the day. I was bouncing off the walls all day and night. I was all giddy, my heart racing. I felt like running through the city frolicking about, laughing and singing. I felt the uni-verse gave me the most incredible gift there is to give, letting me catch an unexpected glimpse of her. This was long before sending her the messages.

I lost sleep over her so many nights, even before the rejection because I couldn’t get her off my mind. It was a good thing. I stayed up imagining us becoming close, imagining all the great things we would do together, thinking about how beautiful she was. I used to stay up til 4:30am, dancing around my room just thinking how someone so amazing exists. My dad used to come into my room complaining about me being up singing, dancing around at that hour. πŸ˜† He would hear me and come bursting through my door yelling “Kim!! What the hell are you still doing up at this hour?!” I was bouncing off the walls. 😭 The energy she stirred in me wouldn’t let me rest. I seriously needed no sleep. It kept me going all day and night. I was never tired. (This was after I discovered her later online and saw just how perfect she was – I was over the moon!!)

This may sound like infatuation, but I don’t experience that as someone who is aromantic. It was pure happiness at the prospect of having her as my person and just liking her so much. I can experience this in a purely platonic way. I can experience it for women I like in a sisterly kind of way. I looovvvee people, and they make me so happy.

Eventually, we did not cross paths in person anymore. There was no defining moment when I realized I wouldn’t see her again, so it wasn’t as gutwrenching as it would have been. Circumstances just changed. But I carried my love for her for years. It never ended. I held onto the hope that we would see each other again. The hope wasn’t always active. I wasn’t constantly thinking about it. I knew she was out there somewhere, and somewhat close. This was enough for me. My love for her would take the back burner once in a while, then reappear strong. Sometimes I would find a new woman to be all ga ga over or go back to ones I knew and loved before her, hoping to cross paths with them again, then eventually I would find my way back to her. I have always wanted a woman by my side doing life with me, to love and to hold and to cherish. My love for a woman I like this way can fade a bit when I don’t see them and sometimes be rekindled for no reason, if I see them again, or something that reminds me of them. Not seeing this woman for a while, my love kind of mellowed out, but I carried it with me, hoping to run into her again. Once in a while it would become more active again. I would still daydream about her, sometimes fall asleep thinking of her even years later. There would be “flares” of thinking of her and longing for her then they would fade a bit.

My love stayed calm and hopeful off and on until one day I happened to accidentally come across her on Twitter. I had an online friend who had a Twitter account and I was looking at his and saw he re-tweeted something of hers. Imagine my surprise! To see her beautiful face again years later. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest! I did not have a Twitter account but could see hers. I loved everything she posted. She was very politically Liberal, she called out racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny. She did this even way before it was the cool mainstream thing to do. She shared all her opinions. This inspired me to look her up on Facebook and Google. It wasn’t in a creepy way. I looked her up on Facebook because we did kind of know each other to a point. If we did not ever know each other, I wouldn’t have. She was popular online and had years worth of writings and stuff, and I found so much of it. Her Facebook account was public, and she had many strangers as friends so I felt it wasn’t too creepy to request her as an online friend. She accepted.

I saw that she had a YouTube channel, blog, and Instagram account where she shared every aspect of her life and every thought that crossed her mind, even things most would not make public, like cheating on her husband with a married man, ruining both of their marriages, having an abortion without telling her husband (not saying she should have had to, but this is something most people wouldn’t broadcast to the world lol), she admitted to once dating and then moving in with a man just to use him for his money and place to live and things, when she wasn’t really in love with or interested in him for him, getting into arguments with people, the falling out she had with various friends and family members…

She was extremely passionate about openly supporting minority groups of any kind. She visited other cultures and learned their customs and languages. She denounced public figures/celebrities/popular people who expressed prejudicial attitudes against minority groups. She volunteered and donated money to organizations supporting minority groups. She got a lot of criticism, even threats, but this did not stop her. She traveled and gave public speeches on LGBTQIA+ and racial minority issues. She wrote blog posts and newspaper articles on the issues. She was/is a Jewish atheist and shared her experience with that, what it’s like growing up in a Jewish family and lacking faith in religion/gods, being the target of anti-Semitism…She did all this while battling debilitating mental illness and devastating headaches. I was in awe.

All this deepened my awe of her. Every terrible thing she did and shared and every great thing about her all clashed into a beautiful disarray of seasons and colors and everything, a beautiful disaster.

I’m getting this electrified feeling through my whole body just thinking back to that feeling of when I discovered her online and came to know her much better. It was the most amazing feeling. It was like I found my soulmate, my other half, my one for life. It was like falling madly in love and ecstatic and stars exploding all around me, but also a safe, secure feeling of home. And for some reason I just took for granted that she would likely feel the same. I just assumed we would be friends. I’m getting giddy as I write, like my whole body feels lighter and like it wants to move, like I want to put on some music and dance. Not because I want her still but just remembering that feeling itself. Oh, my! I crave it again. I can get that feeling for different women, but it’s most strongest if I see some possibility we can be in each other’s lives in some way, which is usually not the case. I can even get it for women I only know online. I can totally love a man as my friend, brother, platonic soulmate. But it’s different, never like this.

She shared about how her apartment had roaches everywhere because she never cleaned. She said in a YouTube video, I never clean my apartment and it has roaches everywhere…because it’s so disgusting. (I’m a slob too πŸ˜† So I thought nothing of it – I don’t have roaches though lol I’m telling you we were made for each other, don’t know where her head was rejecting me…no two people could ever be better for one another πŸ˜‚ Match made in Heaven, which unfortunately she couldn’t see πŸ˜†)

I wondered if her husband was out of his mind letting her go. I would have kept her and taken her back again and again.

We both held the rare philosophy that romantic love is not better than platonic love and friendship and that platonic love is equally fulfilling and important. And we both did not want to get married (she said once was enough for her, but she still wanted love).

She used to do “What’s in my purse” videos (This was a thing years ago{anyone remember that? lol}, lots of girls would do blog posts/videos where they would list/show pics of everything in their handbag lol It was something other girls loved to see – I used to love those post the women would do when I read their blogs/watched their videos, I used to wait for them when they would mention in a post that their next post would be what’s in my purse lol) where she would open up her bag and show each thing in it. She loved Hello Kitty (like me!) and kept her birth control in a hello kitty holder lol I liked that we both loved hello kitty, lots of people thought it’s for kids. It seemed sweet & innocent. I wrote to her that I love hello kitty too but don’t think she was as impressed as I was that she loved her lol

We also both have a currently incurable chronic headache pain disorder. Not the same disorder but we both have episodic debilitating headache attacks. She would share her struggle, and I could totally relate to the physical pain as well as the emotional pain of not being able to have certain food that can trigger an attack, food that we want to have. She couldn’t have chocolate (I can, but for me, chocolate chips are a bit difficult, n mint chip ice cream is my favorite, so that sucks), and she would cry about it sometimes because she loved it. I would find it heartbreaking and told myself when we become friends, I will never eat chocolate again so she wouldn’t be sad, even though I love chocolate.

We both had depression and both diagnosed with a psychotic disorder and had similar experiences with it. Hers was much worse. It was more frequent and affected her life more than mine.

I thought there couldn’t be a more amazing person. It wasn’t that I loved her “anyway.” That could have been true also.

But I loved her even more, because.

I don’t particularly have a thing for users, cheaters, homewreckers, liars, slobs, troublemakers, … it’s just because it was HER.

I also found out we loved the same kinds of stuff, books, music, cafes, movie theatres, shopping…

This is when I fell so madly in love. If I thought it was love before, this was on a whole other plane.

I felt we were soulmates. lol I wanted a relationship with her that is more interconnected or close than close best friends usually are. But I would have been absolutely thrilled to have her in any context, even if she was a casual acquaintance or work friend. Most of my pain was not having any contact with her. I just wanted her in my world in some way. I would not have even cared if she had a girlfriend or boyfriend or romantic partner but still loved me. I was so super jealous of her friends and acquaintances because I did not have her in any way except a few social media comments/likes here and there. It was so tantalizing.

I did not realize back then that if she was in a monogamous romantic relationship, the person probably wouldn’t want her in this kind of relationship with me, and it would be emotional cheating unless her romantic partner agreed to it. Since it wouldn’t be sexual or romantic I thought it could work out with someone who is already in a monogamous romantic relationship. I knew most wouldn’t love me as much as they love their romantic partner and wouldn’t want to be that emotionally close to me, but thought it’s still a possibility. I did not realize til somewhat recently that it wouldn’t be as easy or ethical as I thought. It would likely only work out with polyam people who are in a relationship. No monogamous people want their romantic partner that emotionally/sensually close to someone else. It wasn’t til a few conversations with people about how romantic attraction and relationships work and me thinking more deeply about it that I realized. I wouldn’t ever have a relationship like this with a monogamous person in a romantic relationship unless their romantic partner understood and fully consented. I prefer if the person isn’t already taken though and that it’s just us, but wouldn’t care if they get sexual desires/needs fulfilled somewhere else and come home to me. I prefer if their love/emotional investment in this way is just for me though.

Best friends are usually not or not always going to be each other’s main person in life. They usually have or eventually have a romantic partner/family who comes first or is inherently their main person/people no matter how much they love or how close they are to their best friend. Society is just set up that way, and that’s ok. I don’t mind having a very best friend who puts her romantic partner/family first. But I have always longed for a relationship with a woman that is not romantic but as close as one, where we are each other’s main person and always will be. I have never been into dating or marriage though or “building a life” with someone or making big life decisions as a couple. It’s like a combination of aromanticism and homoromanticism. I have said my aromanticism is laced with homoromanticism. Many aros don’t want a close person like this and are even grossed out or feel smothered by the thought. That’s what it’s like for me when I think about it with a man. Throughout life, I have always had this inclination for women. And this is one woman I have experienced this for, one of the ones I felt this the strongest for, and the only one I made a move like this to show it as best as I knew how then.

We had all the same interests and opinions. We had the same style/fashion sense, except she dressed in skirts and dresses a lot, she loved makeup and jewelry and clothes like me. She was super girly, long wavy brown hair, dressed in heels a lot, big earrings, simply gorgeous. I loved her in her glasses and was extremely annoyed when someone suggested to her that she get contact lenses. Like, no!! She wasn’t interested in contacts anyway. She couldn’t see well without glasses and always needed them. She said she felt they blocked much of the beauty of her eyes. But I saw them well. She loved walking around the city taking pictures, like me. She was very intellectual and taught college/high school students before, English and writing and stuff. She has an advanced degree in English. We were both deep and on the same emotional/intellectual level, and loved poetry and old literature.

I wanted nothing but her. I wanted her to be mine and to take care of her forever. I am the initiator{but never have the nerve to make the very first move lol}, the protector, the giver more than taking, the comforter, the nurturer…I prefer to hold than to be held, to touch than be touched, to love than to be loved, though I like receiving it too. So I dreamed of taking care of and loving and protecting her. I felt like if she was mine, I would have a literal perfect life and we would both be happy together forever. I felt like any problem I ever had would disappear if she was mine. So I sent her a long message, two actually, (don’t know how I got up the nerve but I did and wholeheartedly regretted it lol It was and still is uncharacteristic of me to be so bold) gushing about how we could be amazing friends and live close enough to hang out and do everything together since we like all the same stuff and she unfriended my account, after not responding for a few days. lol (definitely was NOT laughing back then)

I actually sent her long messages before about liking all the work she did helping people and told her some stuff about my self but it wasn’t the same way. She did respond and thanked me. In this case, I wasn’t expecting a response because it was just me wanting to express gratitude.

I saw people who were strangers to her but lived close enough, commenting on her posts asking to get coffee or ice cream with her and her agreeing. She was very social and a bit popular because of all her activism work and volunteering and she had a large social media and blog following, mostly by people in our city. So my message to her was not completely out of the ordinary for her who did get lots of requests to meet up and hang out and she was always getting compliments on her physical beauty and personality. I had lots of competition; everyone loved her. LoL She also got a lot of negative comments by a-holes who did not like her political views or just wanted to troll. This would infuriate me and I wanted to tell them all off. LoL I was very protective and defensive of her. I could not stand her getting negative comments. To me, she was perfection.

Back then, her rejection was the worst thing ever, and triggered a two month long major depressive episode thankfully not a s*icidal one but still debilitating – I was able to keep the s*icidal thoughts under control and I had close friends, which helped, even though they did not know what was going on, exactly, but I had difficulty getting out of bed each morning and getting to work, my body was so heavy and most of my joy in life was gone, s*icidal thoughts tried to emerge but I was able to keep them away, I saw no hope for any future for me, no food had flavor, I couldn’t sleep, no motivation to do anything – all I thought about was her and why she did not want me, was I not good enough…

My whole self felt so broken; it felt like I wasn’t whole, like I would never be because of this experience. I felt the rejection of someone and something I desperately wanted, but also, I felt a deep deep sense of loss. She was never mine to lose, but still I felt deep, profound loss. There was always that possibility. Beautiful potential. At least in my mind. But it was snatched away because of my decision to reach out and make myself and my love known. Oh. How I regretted it so. For years. How I regretted it. I regretted everything I said. Every word of it.

I remember this was one of the things that made it especially difficult to move on. I felt that I was irreparably broken, that I was now tarnished and would never be able to love anyone ever again. It felt like something significant, something inherent to me being me, was cut off permanently. I felt that I became a lesser version of me, a hollow version, a shadow or shell of what I was before I reached out to her. She was so much an essential part of me (with my perspective) or my love for her was, that it seemed impossible to have a full life loving her when she did not love me at all. It was like what good is life when the most important thing to me isn’t in mine. It’s a bit deeper than I know how to put into words. I feel it’s coming off more superficial than it was. It wasn’t simply a matter of I can’t have her what good is life, that too. It was more that my love for her felt so fundamental to my core or identity that I felt somehow altered at a cellular level, almost like I wasn’t the full me anymore that I was. Like an identity crisis. It felt like this part of me , loving someone to this extent, this depth, this magnitude, who does not love me even just a little bit, is making me less the girl I was. It physically sickened me to the point my headache disorder flared up unbearably for weeks and it felt like life was crumbling on top of me. The headaches were devastating, even more devastating than the emotional pain, in a way. I find physical pain of this magnitude to be even more difficult to cope with than emotional pain. It felt like my face being burned alive on one side. I have been depressed before over losses, exclusion, but this was different.

I’m thankful now for the opportunity to be able to put into words as best as I can, what I did not have the nerve or ability to back then. I thought I would take this to my grave. Writing it is healing.

I have come to really like b&w photos of me. πŸ–€ I never used to (excuse the cracked lips, it’s cold here in Philadelphia πŸ˜†)

I truly thought I would never love this way again, had no idea it would heal and I would go on to love other women like this, and the stress of it triggered severe, debilitating headaches for days and days – my body was sickened, one of the worst stresses it has ever been under. I loved the joy this love brought me and wanted to be able to feel it again for someone who would love me back – thankfully I have felt this love again but unfortunately haven’t been loved back yet) but the grief lasted years(I don’t get depressed whenever someone rejects me. It just happened to happen then.)

People noticed and asked what’s wrong and I said I was rejected and they thought by a man so I let them think it and they would say things like “You’re better off without that guy” and “That guy is just a jerk; you don’t need him.” “You’re too beautiful for him anyway; he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” “Guy must be out of his mind!” One day I wrote “I love someone who doesn’t love me back” with a bunch of broken heart emojis and people were writing “Well does he know how you feel about him…?” I’m bellylaughing now. The only good thing about that was having people thinking I was a normal girl who liked men, romantically.

There were men telling me things like “Wow, I can’t believe this guy; I could never reject a woman like you…” and it gave me a low self esteem kind of feeling, like I’m only good enough for men.

To get to see so much of her life (she was very open about every single aspect of her life, social, emotional, dating, romantic, sexual, marriage, interests, politics, religion, family, health/medical…She was raw, open, honest…and this is one of the things I loved most about her, how she shared herself with the world. I find being “an open book,” a very attractive quality in people) displayed on my screen and not getting to be a part of it in any way, was pain like I can’t explain.

She was my everything and more, and to not be good enough for her was a pain that is indescribable. Everyday, the pain ripped through me emotionally and physically. It felt like my life was over. I couldn’t see a future without her now that I found her. I truly felt that way for a while, that without her, life had nothing to offer me. But at the same second, the joy it brought me just to cross paths with her and know someone that beautiful exists, was out of this world. I was so amazed by the sharp contrast of joy and pain she brought me. They existed alongside one another, never touching or tainting each other. They never mixed or outweighed each other. They both had a place within. If it wasn’t for the overwhelming gratitude for just having crossed paths with her in this life and the knowledge of how wonderful she was, the pain would have been so much more difficult to bear. But the pain did not touch the gratitude, making it so I had that to lean on to carry me through it.

Here is part of a poem I wrote about her:

I want to tell you
That you are the girl
Who keeps me up at night
The one who beckons me
Unknowingly
To the edge
Of some madness
Too vast, too dark to
Explore
The one who lifts me
To the greatest pinnacle
Of joy and love and hope
The one who drops me
As I plummet
To the lowest depths
Of my despair

That top line, I stole out of a popular song. πŸ˜† That is the only line in the poem I did not make up myself. Stolen but so true.

While the pain and joy were both equal, in fact, the joy was even deeper, I had to eventually give into the pain and let her go around three years later – the depression lifted after two months but the heartbreak continued – I stayed in love with her for the next couple years, after I stopped looking at all her content. I stalked it for a few years, then stopped, still actively loved her for a couple more years even after cutting off all contact with her content, til it eventually faded. It mellowed and gradually faded til it flickered out completely and thoughts of her were no longer painful or joyful. For a while I was still embarrassed and hoped she deleted the messages. LoL πŸ˜† Kind of still low-key embarrassed.

One activity that helped me heal the painful emotions involved was writing down on paper, using pencil to give them less power, as many painful emotions (grief, loss, pain, mortified, sad, devastated, physical pain, depression, sickness, rejected, broken…) as I could that were associated with my experience. I let myself feel the painful emotions, let them surface and flow through me. Then I erased the words and imagined the painful emotions leaving me, leaving my body, healing…Then I wrote in marker, in the spaces where the unpleasant emotions were in pencil, positive words and emotions, (love, healing, healed, peace, letting go, strength, courage, resolve, resilient, inner strength, self love, calm, serenity, moving forward…) Letting them flow. This was a very powerful activity and helped me immensely.

Another thing that helped me get over her is leaning into the selfless aspect of my love for her. There was a part of that love that wasn’t for me. A part that wanted nothing but for her to be happy, healthy, fulfilled. A part that did not yearn or attach or expect. I seized that small but powerful aspect and leaned into it, nourished it, clung to it, until it grew, strengthened, deepened, magnified, and became enough. That aspect of my love reminded me what an honor it was to get to feel this love for someone, it let me know my love wasn’t in vain, that it still mattered, still counted for something. It showed me the beauty in loving at a distance, of carrying a love so strong for someone I will never lay eyes on, someone I will never embrace, someone I will never have. It showed me a deep deep selflessness and let me live it each day. It reminded me that it’s a reflection of me, but it’s not about me. I was able to let go of so much of the selfish aspect of love, the part that makes us covet. The part that expects and demands and is often conditional. I leaned so deeply into the selfless aspect until I submerged, til it eased some of the ache, the burn of rejection, until it made that selfish agonized part softer and softer, until it made me strong enough to endure without crumbling, and then that state gave way to the indifference, the indifference that eventually ensued after all the heartache and ruin, the indifference that set me free and gave me my life back.

In fact, the kind of person she was is one of the things that inspired me to cope and eventually heal. She was the kind of person who saw beauty in pain and brokenness, art in imperfection, she saw love & life & light in dark places, and a chance for healing in deep wounds. I harnessed that energy. And I put it to use in myself. I saw beauty in my pain and the brokenness of unrequited love. I saw my life of loving her as a beautiful novel, like the novels she read full of dark and despair, full of heartache, but also so much love and beauty. I saw love & life & light in my darkness, and I saw my wound, my deep deep gaping wound, as an opportunity to nourish and heal a part of myself that was so shattered. And I leaned into this. The person I allowed to break me because I depended so much on and expected so much of her is the very person I leaned on to inspire me to heal that brokenness. Loving her so deeply for so long, she became my way of life, and that way helped me move forward out of the devastation that came upon my world. She was my darkness & my light, my joy and my pain, my despair & my hope, she’s the one I clung to so desperately for so long and the one who taught me how to let go. The one who brought me to ruin and my savior who pulled me out of that ruin. There was a beautiful irony in all of this that wasn’t lost on me. It’s a true story that she would have read and found so beautiful.

To keep dwelling on her and stalking her (lol) was keeping me in agony and doing me no good. The pain had more of a destructive effect overall than the joy had a positive effect. The pain was about not having her as my own but also the fact of being rejected and not understanding why. I know everyone doesn’t like everyone, especially not in a deep way, but she did not even want me as an online friend anymore. It was hard to cope and understand. I had very good self esteem, always have, and this rejection was a blow to it. The fact that she responded to everyone else, even strangers, and loved everyone, but rejected me, made it so much more difficult to cope. One of my messages to her was about my s*icidal depression, something she talked about very frequently, about herself. She was very very open about her struggle.

I told her about my own struggle, which is very similar to hers. I’m open about it in general but told her more than I ever told anyone because I felt this deep connection to her in our similar struggle. I told her that I too sometimes come close to ending myself. It cut me so deeply because shortly after I sent her the message about my depression and sometimes s*icidal thoughts(I sent this a while after the love letter), she posted, “To anyone considering s*icide, please remember this world needs you.” And she posted the s*icide hotline. To see her care about everyone else and not me was devastating. I felt like it was a slap in the face. Not that I was entitled to her love or a response but that did not make my pain any less to see my own pain ignored and me rejected but that she cared about other s*icidal people. It’s hard to explain without sounding entitled. I in no way felt that she owed me anything(I even remember feeling guilty for my pain and sense of rejection, telling myself she doesn’t owe me a thing, that I’m the one who found and came at her), but it did not make me want it any less. I wasn’t angry or bitter but devastated.

I felt that I wasn’t good enough for anyone after the rejection and took a while to recover. I couldn’t cope knowing “the most amazing person who ever walked the face of the Earth” did not love me. lol It was a matter of “If I can’t have her, I don’t want anyone.” It was like we were made for each other and if I can’t have her what’s the sense of having anyone? It was one of the deepest, most intimate (non sexual, of course) loves I have ever known and I was sure I would never feel it again for anyone(though I have felt it before and after, for different women, but this was one of the strongest, it’s not quite romantic but has like the same emotional core or investment, hard to explain in words, not better or more fulfilling than regular platonic, just a bit different and more layers/depth.) I thought I would never get over it. I couldn’t understand why she did not feel the same.

Everything was so perfect and compatible, even our location was close(this is one of the main reasons for my pain, it was so tantalizing to have her so close in location but not have her, it would have been perfect). She loved women, so not like she was creeped out that another woman was in love with her. Also, she, like me, was very social and added strangers to her account. And she was promiscuous, hooked up with lots of women and men she hardly knew and did not know at all, and was very open about it, even going into detail about her usual hookups, how she cheated on her now ex husband with a married man and ruined both of their marriages, and drunken hookups and abortions and stuff, so I don’t think she cared that someone she hardly knew messaged her, probably all my sap creeped her out(it was a long love letter of nothing but praise and how I understand her completely and how we would be so good together forever – I’m laughing now lol I probably sounded desperate and clingy). Her rejection did not weaken my love for her at all. It made no sense to me how, why we both existed in this same life together, so so alike, so compatible, my love for her so strong, yet we couldn’t be together or have any interaction at all with each other. I felt like the uni-verse made us for each other. And I couldn’t make sense of the fact that she did not like me even just a little bit. It made no sense. On top of my amazing self esteem thinking I was the shiz just in general and that anyone could like me (oh how this has changed), the fact we were both so similar, and that she basically loved everyone, I thought she was bound to like me. So I was totally confused and shocked to be rejected even as an online acquaintance. The devastation was debilitating.

I think she was probably put off by the fact she hardly knew me and I came on very strongly out of nowhere. Hooking up with strangers can be just a casual, physical thing. Mine was deep and full of emotion. She was the same way though, very sappy and loving. One of the things that drew me to her was her compassion for others. She would often cry about things she saw in the news and donate money to help people. I paid attention to her and looked at all her social media content, watched her youtube channel religiously, so felt I knew her better than she knew me. I was already very intrigued by her and wanted to get to know her, but finding so much more about her, and that she was just as amazing as I thought she was, made me over the moon for her. And the fact we were so similar, it was like finding my other half.

Sometimes I wonder if it wasn’t that I came off as creepy and clingy but just knowing someone loved her like I did, scared her. She wasn’t emotionally healthy. It can be hard to accept love if we aren’t in a healthy place. Even a healthy person can be afraid when faced with the possibility of being truly loved by someone, platonically or romantically, especially if they have been deeply hurt before by someone they trusted. My message wasn’t psycho single wh!te female/roommate style. lol In case you don’t know roommate and single wh!te female are movies about a young woman who is platonically obsessed with another young woman in a way that isn’t normal, not even normal clingy but straight up literal psycho obsession. My messages were deeply passionate, full of intense emotion, maybe a bit too strong for trying to begin a relationship with someone we hardly know or communicate with, but not scary or literally obsessed. Also I was 20 something years old and that probably showed. I think youth can add to display of intensity or lack of social skills/boundaries. I would be more mature about it as a middle aged adult now.

We were similar in even ways that can’t be explained, like quirks that you think only you experience, or just little things that you think make you you and no one else can be like that. I was amazed! I never send friend requests, but I did send her one, and she accepted. She was more active on Insta, which I did not have, and her blog, and YouTube channel. She never liked or commented on any of my posts or pictures on social media. But she did occasionally respond to my comments to her or like them. We did not really interact much as friends though.

Just out of nowhere, for some reason, I chose to be bold and tell her that I loved her. Have no idea what possessed me. LoL I remember my heart was pounding in anticipation as I was sending it and expecting a response that she would love to meet me again. I remember waking up one morning and on the spur of the moment thinking “I think I’ll tell her I love her today.” I jumped out of bed, literally. LoL I sprung up and jumped with joy at the thought of connecting with her. I worked all day on the messages and poured my heart and soul into them. It took me days to get everything written out and edited and then finally I sent two messages and waited. For days I waited and she wouldn’t respond. I would see her keep posting on social media and not responding to me.

Actually what I remember is, she was very active on social media/blog/YouTube… posted every single day, all throughout the day. And after I sent her the messages, she stopped posting everywhere for a few days. Then she came back and began posting everyday again but not responding to me.

Then finally she unfriended my account. Imagine the initial sting of clicking on her account and seeing “Add friend” and then the deep deep pain of all that entailed and implied, of everything it meant. I hoped so much she would change her mind and held out hope til I finally had to accept she wasn’t going to respond and did not love me. The first thing I thought is that I came on too strongly.

I only did because she was that kind of person, herself. If she was more reserved, even if I liked her, I wouldn’t have sent messages like that. She talked about how she scared men away who she was dating or into because of how much emotion and love she had. She was kind of clingy. And she talked about how she overshared about everything, way too often, with everyone, even strangers. And I saw that in her YouTube videos, and she would stop and say “Wait, was that too much information?” LoL It would make me laugh. She said the more we share about ourselves, even ugly and awkward things, the more people have the opportunity to know us and therefore love us. And also that it empowers others to be themselves and feel less alone. I wholeheartedly agreed. I wrote to her one day that there is no such thing as too much information or too much love.

Maybe she just couldn’t handle being the recipient, herself.

Also, not sure if the age difference was a factor in her rejection? I was 20 something years old and she was nearly 50 years old (I remember she was struggling feeling she was too old to be attractive any longer. She made a youtube video ugly crying [except she wasn’t at all ugly lol She was beautiful, though she couldn’t see it] about her birthday and that she was afraid of going into a depressive episode over it(she suffered an episode about her 40th one, I saw in a blog post and she had multiple hospitalizations for depression, like me, but she had way more), and I wrote that she’s the most beautiful woman imaginable lol I guess it was kind of cringe worthy of me since we weren’t close but I would love if a stranger wrote that to me, only thing is I wasn’t simply complimenting her here, but trying to initiate a relationship). It wasn’t like I asked her out on a date or something. Basically asked to be her everything though. I kind of threw myself at her. lol


It absolutely k!lled me wondering why others were good enough for her but not me. She had many lovers and friends and acquaintances and even strangers who she expressed love for through the years. She was a hopeless romantic and was sad to be single but she couldn’t get a relationship to work. I would have been overjoyed even to be a casual acquaintance and have even a fraction of her love.

Suddenly, a man showed up in all her pictures and blog posts and videos, constantly talking about how amazing he is. She said he wasn’t a boyfriend, but a very close platonic friend, and they were always holding hands and kissing on the cheek, and going to weddings and restaurants together. He was always calling her his girl and Babe and posting pics of her on his own account(I stalked his account, bitter at him for stealing my woman and the nerve to call her Babe πŸ˜† I thought of her as my babe and my sweetheart, my girl) and she called him “my guy” and “my man” and posted pics of him on her account. It destroyed me because it was like the relationship I wanted with her. But I focused more on my love for her than the pain after a while and was able to be happy she found a true friend even though I still experienced such deep pain for myself. It was hard not to be jealous of him. Like come out of nowhere and get the girl of my dreams. Like gtfoh lol

I remember them celebrating her birthday together and I was torn. In one way I was happy someone was being good to her and she was happy, but another part of me was jealous that I wasn’t included and angry at him for being to her what I wanted to be. It was so difficult. The pictures and posts they would share while out celebrating all night would bring me pain, yet also joy. And I was happy she was happy because I knew her birthdays were difficult for her because she couldn’t stand getting older. So it was good to see him keeping her uplifted and happy. She also lost her job after a while and he was there to bring her comfort. I was happy but sorry it wasn’t me. I was concerned she would go into an episode of depression and hoped he was keeping her safe. I longed to reach out to her with some words of comfort but knew I couldn’t because she did not want me. I hoped so much he knew how to take care of her like I would.

I remember her posting a picture one day, New Year’s Eve, of her and him cuddled on her sofa together, her head resting on him. Her caption was something like “My main man{and his name}, I couldn’t have done this year without you.” I had mixed emotions about it. Part of me was thankful she had someone helping her through her difficult year. But so much of me was in anguish that I wasn’t in his position. It was an inner struggle of true love being happy for her but a selfish pain that it wasn’t me making her happy and giving her love and receiving her love. I experienced both gratitude and resentment for him. I would so so much prefer her to have him than no one and even have him over me if it’s what she genuinely wanted. But I wanted her to want me.

I was so pissed when he changed his Facebook and Instagram default photos to a picture of just her.

“I see you driving round town with the girl I love, and I’m like f*ck you.” πŸ˜†πŸ˜†

I was in so much pain every day and night. Emotionally and physically. The rejection triggered the two months long depressive episode to begin with. But through the years every once in a while I would go into another episode, usually lasting a month, about it. It would lift, and I would go back to the regular pain about it. I lived a regular happy life in general, just carried this pain with me that would flare once in a while. Sometimes I would go a while without looking at her content or thinking of her much, then would look at her social media account, and a depressive episode/wave would be triggered. Or sometimes I would be in a low mood that I call a gateway state to depression; it’s not depression itself or even necessarily unhappiness but a tender state where I can feel if I’m not careful, I can become depressed. If I would think too much about her or check her social media accounts/blogs in this state, a depressive episode or wave could hit. This happened off and on til I was no longer interested in her.

My head throbbed relentlessly and the heartache was unbearable. I clung to anything I could for any bit of consolation. The main thing I found solace in was reading. I threw myself into books and read more than I ever read before. Mystery thrillers that kept me guessing what would happen next, intellectual readings to keep my mind active and thinking, personal development books that gave me tips for coping… anything to take my mind off her and my depression. It was a mixture of grief and depression and it was Hell on Earth. Everything I read I would wish I could tell her about. She loved to read too. I wanted to read books together and have hours long discussions. Every love song, I thought of her.

She had very low self esteem, body image issues, and bad luck with relationships. She dated people of any genders but especially men and had no luck. This is something that was getting to her. She said she felt lonely and left out everywhere, and I wanted to run to her rescue. I felt that I could make up for all those failed relationships of hers with all the love I had to give. I’m not this arrogant anymore. It knocked me down a few pegs and I never quite got back up.

The rejection of someone I loved with every fiber of my being and was ready and willing to love wholeheartedly, just cuts so deeply and hits hard. She was a very emotionally unhealthy and complicated person when I think back, full of insecurities, and I longed to put them all to rest. I wanted to make her better so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore, because I loved her and she was a good person. She was a trainwreck, and it probably wouldn’t have been all rainbows and butterflies to get to love her, though I still would. Love isn’t supposed to be all perfection and happiness. (It shouldn’t be toxic either though, and thinking back, I have an inkling it could have been, with her, but I thought I would be able to calm her and make it so we have an easy love and life together) I loved her unconditionally. She admitted that she made all her relationships, even platonic friendships, complicated. I thought that made her even more beautiful, somehow. Today, I would not think that, no matter how much I love someone. I thought of her as a beautiful work of art. I always thought broken things are so beautiful, and she was so broken. There are things I wouldn’t have accepted in other people or would have been put off by but accepted in her. Sometimes she could be a bit judgemental of other women because of her jealousy as a result of her low self esteem. I did not like this even then, and there were a couple other things I remember rubbing me the wrong way. But because I loved her, I did not criticize.

I was nowhere near as unhealthy in the head as she was. I just had depression. I joke that I’m a s*icidal wreck sometimes, but it’s just depression that comes and goes. I don’t have conniptions in public, or meltdowns ever. Even when I’m depressed, I’m very composed on the outside. I’m also not full of general insecurities, just in general when I’m not depressed. She was. She was often a wreck by what I read and saw in her YouTube videos. She became addicted to prescription drugs and was in the process of recovery. I thought my depression was bad and that I had issues, but it’s like a walk in a park next to her issues. I thought I would be able to help calm her and love her into healing and wholeness. She had some messed up and thoughtless friends who did not have her best interests and safety in mind(she did not say this, and I don’t think she realized, but I could tell by the things she mentioned about them), and I wanted to show up and take care of her.

They would go out together late at night and let her go home alone, even while intoxicated. If she decided she wanted to go home early and they still wanted to stay out, they would stay and she would go. If I was out with a woman who wanted to leave early, I would go with her no matter how much I wanted to stay. Someone else’s safety, sense of safety, and emotional support is more important than my fun. They would let her leave, drunk, with men she just met. They would watch movies together, knowing there are trigger scenes for her in them. She would just casually mention these things, to get to a different point. I don’t think she realized she can do much better than this and is worthy of more than this. I wanted so desperately to show her. I wanted to show her what love really is.

She would have emotional breakdowns, randomly, or sometimes triggered by something, in public, out with friends. She had panic attacks and ptsd and manic episodes. Sometimes she would run out of movie theaters or restaurants and have a breakdown somewhere. She would sob, collapse, sometimes hit things, like the walls in restroom stalls. Sometimes she would experience homicidal tendencies when she would have fits of rage. Her friends would have to try to calm her. I would see her mood swings in YouTube videos. She couldn’t always stay composed while trying to talk. She would often break down, sobbing or just burst out crying. All this made me ache for her and want to hug and love all her pain away. Not that that’s possible and I never believed I could cure her, but I knew I could be by her side and love her through it all. As I write this now, I feel that ache I used to feel for her, not the ache of wanting her love and wanting to love her, but the ache I experienced for her in her deep pain. The compassion, the sorrow, I no longer wish I was there hugging and loving her(though I hope someone is, maybe he still is), but as I think back, I have deep deep compassion and concern, and hope so much she is in a much better place, emotionally. I find it heartbreaking just to think back to some of her videos and the pain she shared. I don’t have those active protective urges any longer but still wish the best for her.

I still do think of her as one of my soulmates in this life; that will never change. We are aligned emotionally, morally, intellectually, sense of humor….I no longer think of her as my soulmate or other half, but still part of my soul family.

Her smile would make me smile so big that it hurt. She was a big animal lover, which made her win my heart even more. She loved animals like me in a way most people don’t. Like me, she cared when a rat or mouse would die.

One day she shared that she found a dead mouse outside and she sat down and cried next to it, then buried it. She posted a picture of the mini memorial/grave she made for it. It was heartwarming, and I longed to hug her. This deepened my conviction that we were soulmates. I rarely to never meet people who care when a rodent or insect dies like I do. She would even feed roaches outside if she saw them and so do I. Lol Giving them bread or pretzels and some water. I have never known someone so compassionate except the Buddhists I used to hang out with Her and me are atheists.

I find it gutwrenching when even an insect dies. One day a caterpillar died and it triggered a s*icidal depressive episode in me for a month, mostly because it was my fault and the guilt triggered it, but it was heartbreaking to see the little baby die. Got ran over by a car. It’s painful to recall and write about this. She was the same way. This adds to my wondering about why she did not love me back. She basically loved everyone but not the one who loved her most and is just like her.

She made me laugh with her videos and posts. When she would cry in youtube videos I longed to hug her and stroke her hair and make it all better. Even after she unfriended my account, seeing pictures/videos of her (I was a creep and still read her blog and looked at her accounts, asking myself why, why, why lol), would just make me beam with love & joy. I was just drawn to her energy, sensitivity, compassion…and felt the loss of being unfriended. I wasn’t ready to give her up as an online friend. I wanted to still see her pictures and hear about her life. I wanted to be uplifted and inspired by the wisdom and beauty she shared, and this all would have been good enough to an extent if I wasn’t rejected. There are other women I only knew/know online and wish I knew in person and never reach out to them, and it’s still so amazing just knowing them in this context. But knowing this woman outright did not love me or like me even knowing all this about me and how much I loved her, made it too painful.

I thought she had the most beautiful hair, face, smile, eyes, just everything. I could not stop looking at her. She took my breath away. I admit her beauty was part of the whole that made me love her. I am very aesthetically attracted to women and for us aces/aros, that can play a part in our interest in someone just like sexual attraction for non asexual people. Her physical beauty mesmerized me. So often, I looked at her and thought, she is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.

Not my photo! To get an idea of what she looked like. She looked very very much like this. Isn’t she lovely? 😍 This is a random photo off Google images, like one of those stock photos. I was looking for a random pic to share just to give an idea and was surprised and delighted to quickly find one of a person who fits her exact description and looks very similar. Now I’m falling in love with this one. πŸ˜†

She looks so similar I almost felt a fluttering in my chest at the memory. See how she has that professional, intellectual air about her? She appears well read and educated. Someone who can hold a deep and intelligent conversation and just understands life and things. Not to be ableist, classicst, and whatever else. Nothing wrong with not being that way. But I like it when I see it in a woman. She used to wear bracelets and paint her nails like this too.

I often daydreamed of us going out to cafes and strolling the city streets together, arm in arm, fingers laced together, reading together in a park, and always wished I could hug her and rest our heads on each other’s shoulders. I tortured myself about why she did not want me. This was like a decade ago and I am so over it. The thing I found interesting is how even with so much pain and despair, this love I had for her brought me a joy that couldn’t be touched and she brought me incredible joy even after the rejection. It was true love. It was hard to let her go because just seeing a picture of her made me overjoyed. I did not want to give up that joy. I would fall asleep at night looking at her beautiful face and smiling through the immense pain and grief.

I felt we were made to belong to each other. Like we were written in the stars. Sometimes on very rare occasions I have a feeling like there was a glitch somewhere in the uni-verse and we were made for each other but that glitch interfered. I don’t actually believe this, just a metaphor or something for a feeling I have.

Sometimes I wonder if there was some freak string of coincidental glitches in algorithms or something and she did not receive my messages and also accidentally got off my friends list. This can happen. Someone can accidentally get unfriended/unfollowed on social media. It has happened to me before. When I was sending her the e-mails, they wouldn’t go through at first. It kept saying there was an unexpected error, and I had to keep resending. But they did show up in my sent box, eventually. So they seemed to have gone through. It’s more likely she did receive them and unfriended my account. It seems too coincidental to get unfriended so close to after sending e-mails. Sometimes when I think it could have been a mistake and she never received it because of a glitch in e-mail systems, and FB had some glitch, I experience a physiological reaction, a clenching in my gut, a dizzy sickly sensation, a fear sensation in my chest, an almost sweating sensation in the palms of my hands, to think it’s possible she could have loved me and we could have been together forever but it was prevented by a glitch. Though sometimes this thought has thrilled me, thinking there could still be a chance. Maybe I’ll run into her on the streets one day and she’ll send my heart racing and she’ll remember me and approach me first and all the stars will align and we’ll finally be together for the rest of forever. And one day I’ll tell her and we’ll laugh about it. A girl can dream.

But other occasions I was so mortified at the thought of rejection and looking clingy and overly sappy, that I preferred that she just did not see them than rejected me. For the most part now, I’m indifferent. It’s like either way, whatevz. Though it seems a bit unfortunate if she just did not see my messages. What a potentially beautiful thing possibly destroyed before it ever came to be, all because of a couple online glitches.

It was probably just all my sap was a big turn off lol πŸ˜†

I would have been so happy to know her or have her in any context, even just a casual acquaintance where we see each other in person, even if not frequently, or have a close relationship. So much of the obsession and pain was about not getting to have any contact with her but seeing her whole life displayed across my phone screen and along with that, knowing she did not like me, even just a little bit, when I found her to be so amazing. She was so open about herself and life and constantly shared. Even if she was just a customer at my job back then who chatted with me once in a while, I would have loved it. But we weren’t in each other’s lives at all, never even talked online much.

Haven’t seen her in person or social media since then. I used to be afraid, even years later, if I saw her, my love would be rekindled and be too much to bear, but now I couldn’t care less. I feel that I would be indifferent if I saw her now but not completely sure. I don’t know if it can all come flooding back. Hope not. I don’t think I’m brave enough to look her up even if I was curious. I hope I don’t decide to. LoL The more I think about it the more I feel and fear something may be re-sparked πŸ˜† I don’t think I can handle that pain again. I don’t know how I survived it back then and don’t feel that I can again. It’s not even the grief itself but the depression it may trigger that I am most concerned about. Rejection, loss, heartache is something nearly everyone alive experiences. It’s part of living and loving, and that can be bad enough. But when we are someone who is prone to s*icidal depression, it’s a terrible mix. It may or may not trigger a depressive episode. But it very well could. In general I am emotionally healthy and can handle stuff. But I am prone to depression, and when that depression flares, I’m not emotionally healthy. Some people are never depressed but they are not emotionally healthy either.

I cannot imagine having to bear that pain again, the grief and the depression. Being too cowardice to tell someone we love them and they not knowing we exist, is one thing, painful enough, but being rejected by them is something else. It takes away all hope and possibility that we’ll have them as our own. I don’t get depressed about anything I want and don’t get. I was out of work for two months when my previous job closed and never got depressed. There are jobs I wanted and was rejected for, even told I wasn’t qualified or experienced and that others were, and that did not depress me. Disappointed? Yes, but not depressed. There are people I liked who did not like me back. I was told before that I’m not pretty enough for a man when a mutual friend tried setting us up(obviously I wasn’t going to go out with him anyway lol)…and none of this depressed me. It doesn’t always depress me. But some of it can, especially when intense love is involved.

It’s absolutely not someone else’s obligation to love me, accept me, keep me….just so I don’t become depressed and s*icidal, and I never ever have thought that it is. It’s my obligation to become aware as best as I can, of my own triggers, and navigate them the best I know how. I wouldn’t try to avoid them in general as that would not be living. The only way to avoid loss and rejection is to avoid people, which I would never do. But if someone makes it clear they don’t want me, the appropriate thing to do is cut them off and let go as much as possible. It’s no one’s fault at all if I become depressed/s*icidal. That’s my own condition. Yes, things can trigger it, including things that someone else may do, and things that others do can sometimes help make it better, (like just a brief message to say hello) but that’s my responsibility, no one else’s.

I had to stop looking at her blog/accounts years ago, because it was so so painful even though her face brought me joy, I used to think about looking her up a couple years later, to see what she is up to and hoping she is happy and to see that beautiful face, but my hands would be shaky, heart racing, and I would think it would all come back and who knows what emotions would surface and resurface. So I avoided it. It was because of the rejection of being unfriended. Even just being ignored or not knowing I exist is different. But she had a reason to explicitly unfriend and all I can think of is it must have been too deep for her even though she was a deep person herself. Or the age? But we can be friends with people at any age. And she had younger friends.

I felt I would never again meet anyone like her and no one else would do(I felt this for women before and after her too but not always this strongly). Being prone to depression makes things more challenging because I never know when a painful situation that would be just painful to anyone else, will trigger a s*icidal depressive episode in me. Seeing her face again, if it rekindles something, can possibly lead to an episode where if I wasn’t prone to depression, it would be sad but not dangerous and triggering.

For a long long while I wasn’t even curious about her anymore but my trip down memory lane is getting me. LoL I hope she is happy and healthy wherever she is. I was never at all angry at her and always saw her rejection of me as totally valid, just sucked for me. lol My love for her that way is either gone or dormant. I still love her, but not like that. I love her in a universal sense, wishing her the best in life. And I also love the her I remember as a person. I have warm emotions when I remember her, but not in a way that I want a close relationship with her any longer. She was a genuinely likable person. I think anyone would like her company.

She was passionate about photography as was I (still am!), and we loved the same kind of photography. So after she ghosted me, I kept taking all kinds of pictures of things I knew she would like, trying to impress her. I thought maybe she was stalking my account. I have a feeling even now that she was(wouldn’t be surprising if she still is). She was that kind of person. She would cut people off and still look at their social media accounts/blogs years later. She also looked up people she had no intention of ever communicating with, people she knew years ago and did not like. This next part I’m going to write is very distressing to some so just a heads up. It’s about ass*ult……… she was brutally r*ped years before by a man (if you even want to call that a man) she was attracted to. One day he randomly att*cked her. And she looked him up years later and stalked his and his wife’s Facebook and Instagram accounts. He was single back then and now had a wife and kids and seemed very happy. She was furious and shattered that he got to live a normal life of happiness while she was still suffering with debilitating depression and panic attacks and psychosis decades later because of what he did. She had severe ptsd. She said it was so unfair.

I felt every bit of this. There are no words to describe this feeling that someone wrecked your life (or the life of someone you love with every inch of your sinew) and gets to go on living a happy life of love and family and friends and work satisfaction, while you (or the one you love) are broken beyond repair even after decades of therapy and medication and shock therapy and trying so hard to achieve some semblance of recovery and normalcy. She described in great detail what it felt like. And I felt it secondhand, every ounce of it and with an additional layer adding to it because I was in love with the woman experiencing it firsthand and describing it. And it burned in me. It burned like a hot rod impaling every inch of me. My skin was hot.

She had to keep leaving work even decades later for disability and hospitalizations. He had no idea she was looking at his accounts. So I believed she was likely stalking mine and tried whatever I could to win her heart.

I remember the fury I felt for him since I met her. A man I never met. A nameless, faceless man who existed only in the crevices of my brain, a figment of my imagination, an apparition, untouchable, unknowable. A dark hazy figure. A shadow of a man. But somehow still so real to me, a figure of substance, making my fury for him palpable. I carried this wh!te hot fury, my whole body inflamed and hot, like a cauldron of poison overflowing, at the thought of someone being able to hurt even a strand of hair on the head of the woman I loved beyond words, more than life. I have never known such v!olent rage like a fire burning passionately, relentlessly, in the deepest depths of my being, rising to the surface, shooting daggers through the pupils of my eyes. I used to fantasize about wrecking his life the way he wrecked hers, ruining his career, framing him for something else to make up for getting away, destroying his property. I came to intimately understand the saying”Love makes you do crazy things.”

The lasting effect this has on me is, I am now a bit hesitant to express the depth of my emotion for people for fear of being “too much” or coming on too strongly. Sometimes I want to compliment someone and think maybe I shouldn’t or maybe I should tone this down a bit before I seem obsessed. Even if it’s just a compliment to a stranger I don’t plan on encountering again, I often hesitate and think will this be off putting or scare them away if it’s too sappy or something and I think back to this.

Another lasting effect having known her has on me is it inspires me to be even more open about my experiences and things(like this). Sometimes I wonder if something is too much or an overshare, and I remember her and what she said about how sharing all of us, gives people more of an opportunity to truly love us. If they know our ugly parts, our clingy parts, our awkward and embarrassing aspects…they get the chance to truly love who we are than if they only knew the positive. This post is an example of something I wasn’t sure I should share very in depth. And I remembered it’s exactly the kind of thing she would share, with self deprecating humor throughout.

It also taught me that “You’ll only regret the things you don’t say” is nonsense. I regretted the ish out of sending those messages. lol I was embarrassed after reading the endless sap I wrote and was embarrassed even years later, thinking of it and how it probably creeped her out. Now it’s just whatever. But I can’t say I’m glad I sent it. LoL There’s still a slight cringe when I think of it. Also, just remembered I sent her a bunch of love song lyrics. Omg just k!ll me now πŸ˜† Imagine a strange woman coming out of nowhere and expressing this undying love for you and sending love song lyrics to Oldie songs. No wonder she unfriended my account 😹 But then again, I wouldn’t mind if a woman came out of the blue to love me. There’s a way not to be creepy about it though. I guess I crossed the line into creepy?

Though, she was the same way, coming on strong. She shared that she often shared too much info and it made people uncomfortable. She loved Oldies music (but loved rap and hip hop more) and love songs like me, and she would share songs she liked. Much of what I wrote to her was referring to specific things she shared in posts and videos. So I shared lyrics to love songs and Oldies songs I loved, with her. LoL

Also, she inspired me to read more novels. I always loved educational texts. She loved love stories, and I began to read more of them. I became hooked, and to this day, still love them.

After writing all this and thinking about it, I began to long for what could have been if she loved me back. It was absolutely one of the most difficult experiences I ever endured, to the point it physically sickened me. My body was ill. I felt like she was my other half. The other half of my “soul.” (I felt this again for other women after her and it was also painful. I usually don’t reach out to them and they don’t know I exist) I still think we could have been perfect together if only it wasn’t for that one little thing, whatever it was, that turned her off.

I will say, in my defense, this is not as creepy as it may sound here. Embarrassing, awkward, definitely, but it wasn’t like I was a creep or perv or whatever like so many men who message women. My messages had one hundred percent good intentions. I did want a relationship with her but wanted to lavish all the love I could, onto her. All I wanted was to love her. And her love me too. I completely respected and accepted her boundaries. I never sent her a message again or a friend request after she ignored and unfriended my messages/account. I did not follow up with “Why did you unfriend me/do you hate me/what did I do wrong?” or “F*ck you” like SO many men do to women when they send us compliments or ask us out and we ignore or reject them. I did still look at her accounts for a while but they were public and it’s not like she blocked me and I came back under other accounts. I knew where she lived and worked (not in a creepy way, she was open about it) and never once tried to stalk her. lol It never even occurred to me.

This should go without saying but just in case, I’m going to say it. LoL

I wasn’t under the delusion that she was in love with me back, though I did think at the very least, she would like to get to know me and maybe hang out like an acquaintance (and this would have been good enough for me). People usually do like people who are similar to them and have the same interests, values, goals…and she was very social and welcoming of people in general and usually responded to the messages that I could see on social media, blog, youtube…, so there was no reason for me to think she wouldn’t like or respond to me when I sent her messages (mine weren’t public). I still wished her the best(just in my head) and hoped she was happy. So yeah, I was kind of obsessed and a bit much, and too sure she would like me. lol But I fear this may come off creepier than it was. It was more compliments about her than anything. I knew her insecurities and tried to build her up and I knew the good work she did helping people and complimented her on it, genuinely. And I told her my own experiences to show her someone understands and she isn’t alone. It reminds me of Billy Joel’s lyrics “I won’t hold back anything, and I’ll walk away a fool or a king.” I did not hold back anything. And I sure walked away a fool.

Also, there were always strangers in her comments section on her blog, social media, YouTube… spilling their whole life stories, about depression, r*pe, abuse…and all, and she responded to nearly all of them, with compassion and concern, so it wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with a stranger sharing deep and unpleasant things with her.

I have a feeling that just having this experience is good for something and I am happy that I can love like this. It’s beautiful even when I’m not loved back. And it’s one of my greatest sources of joy in life, just to feel this love. I often say it’s better to reach out in love and it doesn’t work out than not reach out. So at least I tried.

I admit that I was arrogant back then. I was conceited. I thought I was all that and a bag of Skittles. I thought I was everything she needed and everything she wanted. I thought I could love her like no one else ever did. I thought I knew her so well and could love her accordingly. I thought she would think I was stunningly beautiful and amazing if only she would look at me. I wanted her to think I was beautiful like I thought she was beautiful. I thought all she had to do was look my way, and the rest would be history.

I’m embarrassed about my arrogance and I’m glad she toned it down. To think I had this idea and plan and she would just fall into it and go right along because it’s what I wanted. To think we were soulmates because I felt so. I am very careful now, not to be that arrogant anymore when I like someone, even in a regular platonic way. I don’t assume they will like me back or that I have anything they need or want. While I don’t have low self esteem (except sometimes when I’m depressed), I think this experience kind of pushed me the other way to a degree sometimes. When I love a woman, I sometimes think I don’t really have anything she wants or needs. I don’t think she thinks I’m pretty or attractive in any way. This is especially true when I am depressed.

I used to think my love for people is just what they need and that my hugs would be so healing. I don’t know if that was arrogant of me or what. It kind of seems so, but that wasn’t my intention. But I have always had compassion urges to hug people in need who I know like hugs or show them kindness, especially people I know and have emotional connection to, but even strangers. I have always loved Free Hug Days. I’m still like this, but since then, I don’t have that feeling as much that my love/hugs can really help anyone. Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a point in reaching out in love, in offering a hug, in showing love/care/concern…like those people probably have many people they can turn to for a loving hug or words of affirmation or whatever, why would my love/hug be so great that it helps them?? I don’t always think this way but have since the rejection. It wasn’t until revisiting my experience with the woman I loved and her rejection of me that I realized this is rooted in her rejection. I tried to love her and believed my love for her would do her good, but it only turned her off. I realize now that it kind of marked me, thinking my love isn’t anything anyone needs. And when I catch myself wanting to love someone, even a stranger, I judge myself for being arrogant and tell myself to tone it down, to not expect that I can help or touch them for the better with my kindness. This isn’t always, and it’s mostly when my depression is acting up. But I can tell it’s rooted in the rejection all those years ago.

And to think I’m told every now & again by non aromantic/asexual people that I’m “lucky” to be aromantic/asexual because I’ll “never know the heartbreak of rejection or breakups.” LoLz If you say so.

I still love her, I always will. But not like that. She will always be one of my life soulmates and hold a tender place in my heart. That cannot ever change.

I loved rereading this after I wrote it. It made me giddy to remember that kind of love and know I have it in me to love like that again and possibly be loved back. I was able to summon the feels. It fills me with hope and possibility. Where in the world I’ll find her, I don’t know. It can seem impossible because it’s not the usual romantic/sexual kind of love most experience but it’s not the same as having a best friend, and it’s for my own gender. It’s so much easier to get a man or our “opposite” gender. But knowing I have it in me to experience this makes me so happy. 😍

I think the only way I can be loved back like this is if someone is romantically in love with me because most don’t experience the emotional/alterous attraction without the romantic aspect. It’s very hard to find another aroace with leanings like me. I wouldn’t mind being loved, romantically, by a woman and I can love her back in my own way. I can reciprocate affection, physical and verbal, because I have those leanings. Just nothing sexual. It’s not easy to find. But I am very happy and fulfilled with regular close friends also! It’s not less fulfilling or valid, just different. β™₯️

I realized I miss her. Even after all these years, and I still have a bit of grief, it’s true. Not in a way where I want that relationship with her that I so so deeply longed for back then, but just miss her as a person, even just online. I would like to have a person like that again in this life of mine, even just as a social media friend. Not that I don’t have great people online or who I see in person now, like at work and just online friends. But the experience with her was different. Everyone is different, and most people aren’t as open about everything as she was. And I don’t love most people how I loved her. I miss her humor and photography that inspired me. I miss her wisdom. I miss her face and the joy it brought me to see her smile. I miss how she celebrated all the simple joys of each season like I do. How she celebrated the crisp Fall leaves in Autumn, and the rain misted flower petals in the Springtime, the way she loved the snow covered pavements and bare tree branches in Winter, and the sun reflecting off the windows on all the buildings around us in the Summer. Me too. I miss how she saw everything like I do, the beauty in the mundane, the extraordinary in the ordinary. She would see an empty coffee cup left by a stranger on an outside table at a cafe and take a picture to showcase its beauty. And that couldn’t be any more me. That is so rare. I also miss loving someone that way. I miss the possibility, that feeling like maybe, just maybe, she’ll one day be mine. Even after the rejection, I held out hope; that hope got dimmer and dimmer before it eventually went out. But just that faint flicker of hope kept me going so many days. This missing isn’t a bad thing, just part of my experience. It is quiet, sad, mellow. But not negative. There’s something quite beautiful about it. She accentuated that experience in me, the way I experience sad and broken things as beautiful, as works of art. How things seem a tad more beautiful when a hint of sorrow in thrown into the mix.

That’s another way I realized I am still marked by her. I knew back then but realized even more today how she more inspired that in me. She inspired me to read more novels and artistically capture the beauty in sadness and see rainy days as beautiful paintings of life. She loved the rain and how it brings out color, how the color looks drippy like paint in rainy photos, a reminder of how the storms of life can inspire us to see the beauty that is still around. I love this because it shows how even when it doesn’t work out with someone, and even if it doesn’t end on good terms and even years later, they can inspire good in us. Unlike what I thought back then about becoming a more superficial version of myself after her, it’s just the opposite. I am deeper now and have gems brought out in me that wouldn’t have been. They were in me all along, but she brought them out just by having the courage to be and reveal herself. I am inspired all over again to be raw and open and me. For the last few years, I have been struggling with my depression flaring more frequently and more deeply because of loss of long-term friendships I had and having no true friends anymore. It’s difficult to be as social as me and have no close friends in person. Even when I’m not depressed and am happy, it’s painful. And I haven’t been as inspired or overall as happy as when I had friends. I’m still happy when my depression isn’t flaring, but it’s less happy than when I have friends. Writing this inspired me to embrace me again and practice self love. I haven’t been as self loving since feeling abandoned by friends.

Yes, I do miss her. I wonder about her and hope so much she is happy now.

If this sounds like a big set up for codependency, it wasn’t lol That word is thrown around so loosely these days and everyone is accused of it (people like sounding like experts online lol), it’s hard to know what exactly it is. But if I understand correctly it’s an abusive relationship where one needs the other, and that one needs to be needed. It’s some twisted stuff, and that is NOT what I had in mind for us. I did have a relationship like this before with a woman, a frenemy situation going on that I was conscious of, and we were both guilty of it. I pretended to need her, and she needed to be needed. I had an insecurity that she was fulfilling in me or easing it in me. I did not love her but pretended to because I loved the idea of us. I pretended to be someone I wasn’t around her, changed my whole way of talking and all, still have old messages that show how very fake I was(so was she, it was mutual lol) This was so toxic to my mental health, my mental health got so much better after I ended that relationship. This was before I found the woman I loved again years later. I realized by the way I wrote how I wanted to take care of her, people may get the wrong idea; that’s only because I liked her and she had issues, not that I wanted her to need me. I wanted a mutually loving relationship and wanted her to get better, not stay broken so she can keep needing my validation and stuff. I wanted our relationship equal and healthy. But I will say again, like I mentioned somewhere in this post, that I am the protector/giver. It’s my nature. So if I were in a close relationship, I would naturally be the main giver, giving affection, compliments, validation (to a healthy extent, not excessive, lol), and if that person prefers to receive, that can work in a healthy way. Some degree of validating and taking care of each other is healthy and “normal.” We should complement each other though, not feel we need each other to be worthy and want the other one to stay low just so we can provide. Relationships of any kind, platonic or not, should be equal sided, mutual, adding extra joy and meaning and value, not one providing all to get the thrill of being needed, while the other is clingy and keeps taking. I wanted to take care of her because of the love I had for her, and she just happened to have issues that I wanted to help her heal.

So here is my story! I found it so healing and enlightening to revisit and write. I did not realize how I still had some pent up emotion surrounding this experience. Writing this story healed me in ways I did not realize I still needed healing almost ten years after the rejection. It was cathartic, and there were pent up emotions, wounds needing an outlet, needing a voice, needing validation, needing to be honored, held. I am so thankful I got the opportunity and found the courage to put into words and share what I never thought I could.

I welcome comments, thoughts, anyone else’s experiences with heartbreak, love, rejection…only thing not welcome is anything debating the validity or existence of my identity/orientation and absolutely nothing homophobic.

I hope you are having a beautiful day or night wherever in the world you are and wishing you lots of love. Thank you to anyone who reads this long post if anyone does! It was emotionally exhausting to write because of the length and all. But it was a great journey back through my memory! And somehow it gave me hope. I loved feeling all those feels again, particularly the uplifting ones. LoL And it really did make me laugh. 😁 With some self exploration, I know I don’t want her anymore, but definitely want someone. Remembering all the joy was so pleasant but I don’t want it with her. I’m not going to look her up. I’ll leave that in the past. I admit I am still embarrassed and would be even more to see her again, not knowing if she remembers or forgot all about it. Anyway, it was a good ride!

Xoxo Kim ❀️