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This diary entry is written by Kablammo_Dude. ( View all entries )
 
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My AdviceCategory: (general)
Monday, 26 September 2011
12:33:17 PM (GMT)
I often read through my diaries, and I realize how strange I must seem to some
people.
I seem strange to myself.
A lot of them happy, loving, caring.
The rest anxious, violent, depressing.
A few thoughtful, informative things, when I am thinking clear.
I am thinking fairly clearly this morning.
I am not particularly happy or sad.
Just calm, and thoughtful.
I like mornings.
They seem to be the one time I can think without my brain getting cluttered.
Jesse is sleeping.
I think that when she is awake, we share more than even we think.
After all, I did ask for it.
ANYWAY
People often come to me for advice.
I'm not sure why, maybe I just seem like a trustworthy guy.
Maybe I seem friendly and relaxed.
Maybe I just seem honest and intelligent.
Maybe it is because I listen to everything they have to say and don't interrupt
unless they ask me to.
Maybe it is because I don't take sides. I stay neutral, but provide an unbiased
opinion that doesn't stray too close to either extreme.
I'm not sure exactly why, but I am glad that it happens.
I like listening to people more than I like talking, usually.
I like to help people.
I just wish I could help everyone, and I know I can't.
If there is anyone reading this that doesn't know me, but would like someone to
listen or talk to, send me a message.
I love meeting new people, especially on here.
There are a lot of interesting people here, and the ones that message me are usually
really awesome!
MESSAGE ME!!! 
The thing I find funny, though, is that the advice I so often give doesn't seem to
apply to me.
I tell everyone that they are beautiful, and I believe it.
Everyone is unique, individual, amazing in their own way.
How much you weigh, or what color your eyes or hair are doesn't make you any more or
less beautiful.
I honestly believe that.
Yet, this means nothing when it comes to myself.
I hate the way I look.
Almost every part.
Most of all, I hate that I am overweight.
I have lost a lot, and still am, but oh how I fucking hate it...
I hate my acne.
I hate the way my face looks at certain angles.
I hate my scars.
I tell people to put the past behind them, to move on, to live for the present and
future.
Every single day, I think of all the mistakes I have made.
I think of the way I have been treated.
I compare people to those in my past, and it isn't fair at all.
Jesse has many guy friends, and I am okay with that.
Or I say I am.
Every time I see her with one, my brain starts to corrode.
Usually this is okay, but as soon as they touch her, it's over.
My mind has officially begun the process of losing itself.
It's partially because of what has happened to her in the past.
Guys touching her without her permission.
Hurting her.
It's partially because I think of what happened to me.
What if that touch meant something to her?
What if she acts okay, and we stay together, but she thinks about him?
What if a year down the road, she looks to me and tells me with teary eyes that she
made a mistake?
What if I find her in bed with another man?
What if she has sex with me, but she thinks about other people?
What if we stay together, but I find out a month later that she had cheated on me?
WHY THE FUCK DO I DO THIS?
Jesse is different.
She isn't like that stupid, selfish, lying, cheating bitch I let myself fall in love
with before.
Jesse is so much better.
She is honest, loving, caring, beautiful in every way.
Yet, I can't seem to let the past go.
Seven guys.
The number of men she fucked while she "loved" me.
Seven, of which I knew four pretty well.
I still resist the urge to slit their throats when I see them.
It's been over two years since I have even seen her, and yet I can't let it go.
I let her go.
I had to.
It was driving me insane.
That's probably still a big part of my problems.
I burned the pictures.
I burned the letters.
I threw away the valentines, the presents, everything.
I bought her a ring.
I wanted to marry her.
I was so fucking stupid.
So much money, effort, emotion, time of my life wasted on such a stupid, selfish
whore.
I remember the exact moment I found out about each time she cheated on me.
I remember her crying, not me.
I remember forgiving her.
Again. 
And again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
and again.
I remember asking what happened.
What it was like.
Did she like it?
I would compare myself to them, and it fucked with my head.
I remember her telling me she was going to go stay the weekend with her guy
"friend".
I sat in my dorm room.
Crying.
Pacing.
Drinking.
Wanting to just drive up there and kill them both.
I remember she even brought one of these guys to campus, to meet MY FUCKING FRIENDS.
So I left. 
I went to my room and watched them out the window.
He was tall.
Skinny.
Athletic.
Handsome.
I was none of the above.
No wonder she does it.
She likes my personality, maybe even loves it.
But my looks just don't cut it.
I'm not good enough for her.
I remember when she left.
I wanted to see her before I went home for the summer, but she was at his apartment.
Said that she couldn't.
I asked if she slept with him.
She said she wouldn't talk to me about that.
Of course she did.
Fucking slut.
I just wanted one last hug, a chance to say goodbye to the person that had been such
a huge part of my life for two years.
A chance to say that no matter what happens, that I forgave her, and that if she was
happy, then I was happy for her.
A chance to say good luck for her future.
Instead, she stayed at his apartment.
I packed my car with all of my belongings, drove home, alone.
I cried the entire way.
I unloaded my stuff into my house.
Then I sat in my basement.
and cried.
Every single day for at least a year.
It is embarrassing to love someone so much, when they don't love you.
It makes you feel stupid.
Worthless.
Moronic.
I remember writing her a letter, while she was gone.
She wrote back.
I cried before I even opened the letter.
It was so sweet.
I even remember the words "Maybe we can try again?"
Thanks for the hope, bitch.
I was almost over you, and yet you gave me enough hope to hold on for another fucking
year.
FUCK YOU
YOU STUPID FUCKING MANIPULATIVE BITCH
I left her voicemails, texts, everything.
She never said anything about them.
I didn't hear from her hardly at all for a while.
Then I saw her facebook pictures.
She seems to take a lot of pictures with other guys.
Tall guys.
Skinny guys.
Athletic guys.
She seems to post about how happy she is.
She uses a lot of hearts.
Then I read it.
"I love you, Joe!"
The status that should have made me let go.
But instead led me down a dark and terrible path.
The eighth guy.
Seems fitting.
Eight is my lucky number.
She came back around this way.
She had a fiance.
She was pregnant.
Didn't say a word to me.
Didn't apologize for anything that happened.
I even wrote an incredibly long, heartfelt letter.
I said that I was happy for her.
That I still loved her, but in a friendly way.
That I forgave her.
That we could still be friends.
That I was sorry for how everything happened.
But that I was glad she helped make me who I was.
I got a message back.
It said:
"Stop messaging me."
The last words I ever heard from her.
I sent back the word "Ok"
And attempted to pick up the pieces of the life she had taken in her hands and
personally ripped apart.
I haven't been in school for a while, but I am going back.
She didn't just waste the two years with her.
She fucked up more than that.
I am almost four years behind where I would have been if I had stayed in school.
I would still be there, with damn good grades if it wasn't for her.
In a way, I can't be mad about it.
Without that, I wouldn't have met Jesse, and she is the one person that changed
everything.
That's where my diaries on Kupika began.
When I met her.
I was finally getting back to the point of being normal again.
Or so I thought.
I will never be the same, but with Jesse, life can be perfect.
So I have to at least be somewhat grateful for all of the bullshit.
I just wish I could take my own advice, and leave it behind.
Perhaps one day I can.
I will continue to help people, as much as I can.
I just really hope that one day, what I say to others will actually sink in to my
brain.
That way, I can live an amazing life, with a real woman.
A smart, beautiful, amazing woman that really loves me.
I think I am starting to move on.
Maybe it is starting to set in.
I should start taking my own advice, and not just give it to others.
Last edited: 26 September 2011

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