I keep writing and rewriting this piece, hoping to eventually find the strength to explain how much pain I'm in. How every, "I'm sorry," and, "Things will work out for the better," makes me feel like someone keeps pressing a button on a blender that someone forced into my insides, pulsing my stomach and heart to bits. I mean, I know that heartbreak is a normal part of life and that no one can be expected to live forever with the person that they love, but still. It's been months now, and I still can't get her out of my head.
It all started my freshman year of high school. I didn't know what being gay was then, but I was curious and wanted to at least see if what I was feeling was normal. So, of course, I did that thing that every young kid does and I took to the internet; forums and chat sites and things like that just to see if I could find someone the same as me that didn't make me feel like I was going to hell for being the way that I am.
That's where I met Bre.
We met on Omegle, because that's a safe place to meet strangers. I found out that she was a year older than me and lived halfway on the other side of the country, and we hit it off. Hit it off so well that we kept chatting, even after we logged off one site and moved to another. Hours turned into days turned into weeks turned into years...I loved her. I loved her more than I've ever loved myself and even though that's really not saying anything new, I loved her more than I knew it was possible to love someone. She was...my everything, really. I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life, if she would have me, and I made sure that she knew it.
There was only one problem: She was a devout Mormon, and her parents didn't approve.
I understood her struggle, at least somewhat; I was raised in the deeper parts of the South in a Baptist household where we prayed before every meal and before we went to bed at night. I came out to my mom and she didn't approve either (in fact, she laid on my bedroom floor for a half an hour the night that I came out to her and cried, and then proceeded to cry herself to sleep for a week when she thought I couldn't hear her). I thought that it was something that we could face together, and maybe something that would just become a part of our lives. I didn't want to fix her and she didn't want to fix me, and I didn't want her to change herself just to be with me. I don't know if she saw it that way.
Anyway, she left to go on her mission to Brazil in December 2016, and she wouldn't be back until June 2018. We wouldn't have contact for a full year and a half, but I thought that maybe when she came back, we would at least be able to talk it out. I knew that we would both be in different points in our lives and that a year and a half apart makes for some big changes, but I had faith. I had faith and I had hope because what was I going to do without her?
But no, she came back this year. And immediately blocked me on social media, and any other forms of communication I had with her. She didn't even formally break up with me, like any decent human being would. She just stepped off of a plane and shattered my heart and I doubt she even batted an eyelash.
But how? How can you just claim that you love someone so deeply and intensely for four fucking years just to turn around and forget about them as soon as you leave the country? How dare you?
Whatever. It's over, and it's done. I hope that by publishing this, I'll be able to finally get it off of my chest and move on.