After the relationship ended with my first boyfriend at about age 15, my life seemed to start to really spiral out of control. I became obsessed with regaining that first feeling of love and companionship that I felt. It was so wonderful to be loved and I just hurt so much. I was almost willing to do anything to have it again. I remained friends with that boy for quite a while. I did still care for him deeply, but somewhere inside me an anger raged against him. It was something I had no idea how to deal with. Besides, he helped keep some of the loneliness away.
My depression deepened and I couldn’t stop cutting myself to try to relieve the pain. I threw myself into writing love stories and poems about death and despair. My stories were a fantasy world I could create where I could escape my life, even if the main characters didn’t fare so well. I also spent many hours listening to music. Rock music was a huge part of my world, and there was no shortage of songs that were full of bitterness, rage and despair.
At school I was on the hunt. I had to find a new boyfriend. I had to have that special someone who would fill this terrible void inside of me. I would get my eye on a boy and then obsess over him. I would stalk him, finding out what classes he had so I could try to run into him. Yet I was so afraid to talk to him, that I would just look away shyly every time I saw him. I would write about him in my dairy and think about how amazing it would be to be with him. And this would be a boy I had never even talked to before.
A couple of these obsessions turned into boyfriends. Very innocent compared to my first relationship. We would sit together and talk and listen to music and tell each other we loved each other. No pressure to have sex, which was a welcome change for me. The only problem was I didn’t feel love for them. I felt anxiety and fear that I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pretty enough, wasn’t skinny enough. Did he really even like me? These relationships lasted a month or two at best, then I would just sink further into depression and despair.
I never liked myself back then. I didn’t like myself for a long time. I didn’t feel worthy to be loved and I felt ugly, fat and plain. I can look in the mirror now and smile. I am so happy with myself. I feel beautiful and special and so well-loved. It is amazing that I have come such a long way from that sad girl. It is such a precious gift to me, and I hope that you too have that feeling.