2. “I Hate Myself For This”

Ok, here goes. I’m really nervous writing this because I was super crazy and I hate myself for it.

Years ago, I met a guy. It was an instant attraction (for me) and for a time, him too. Things were pretty intense and then for some inexplicable reason he faded on me.

This was all over the course of three years.

It literally drove me crazy when he faded on me. I couldn’t understand why. I was so invested emotionally, just being near him made my body react. Everything just felt right when I was around him.

So when it turned out he wasn’t feeling the same, I couldn’t understand it.

I was hurt, so, so hurt, and angry and not knowing why sent me into a really weird headspace. I became obsessed.

I never blew up his phone or anything like that. Instead, I’d try to time things and be places I knew he’d be.

When I heard from a mutual friend about an ex gf of his, I got really jealous and paranoid. Was he seeing her again? WHy? Why her not me? What was wrong with me?

So I became obsessed with her too and this is where things got weird.

I began doing drive bys on both their houses. If I saw his car at her house I’d drive around and around until he’d leave.

I’d check to see when he was last logged on to facebook (seriously, that last online timestamp feature is a full stalker tool), I’d try to work out if they were having sex by the amount of times he logged on.

Before long though, instead of driving by, I began wearing a disguise and walking by her house. I never went to his, just hers when he was there.

The pain I’d feel in my chest when I saw his car there was unbearable. I HAD to know what they were doing. Why her not me?

I escalated to crawling along in bushes outside her house in my ridiculous disguise to try and hear what they were talking about.

I heard them having sex a few times. It was sick and creepy and I really fucking hate that I know any of that.

My behaviour got even worse and I did a few other things I won’t write here.

Eventually, I began lurking around outside his house. Long story short, he came right out and confronted me one night, while in “disguise”. He said my name, but instead of seeming angry or weirded out, he just laughed.

I stopped all my silly antics after that, but fuck, why did I do it? I don’t know myself. The worst part was that during all these lonely sad nights I spent doing this, I knew it was crazy and weird. But I still did it.

During the time I was in treatment for suicide attempts and BPD but I still carried on like a weirdo. I never told my therapists about him or her or what I was doing.

I wish I had the excuse that I was super crazy and was hearing voices or blacking out, but I made a choice. I hated doing it so much, but I still did and I’m a seemingly normal, well educated person.

It’s been a few years now, and thinking about it now… it’s like it was someone else. Why did I do that? Will I do it again? Why did I get weird about him and no one else?

I don’t know…