I always thought he was interesting and handsome, he caught my eye since the day I saw him at a party when I was in high school. I knew he was like me, meaning, I knew he got high too. We became casual acquaintances and I bought suboxone from him a couple times. Even had a thing with his best friend for a short time who also became mine afterwards. Greg died and I saw him at his memorial. He played a song that Greg wrote. His voice was raspy and intoxicating. He was thin and had long hair, and just seemed to be in love with his guitar. I knew he was high then, and I was too. I complimented him on his performance and we went our seperate ways. I was always too nervous to entertain a conversation with him. Sometime later I bought suboerxone from him again and when we met him he told me that we should hang out and talk a awhile, about Greg. I left and thought about that a while. Months and months and months later, I became so strung out after going to NYC that I knew I could no longer get clean on my own like I had done multiple times in the past. I overdosed out front of a pizza place in Linthicum. A few days later I went to rehab. At first I didn’t take it seriously but I got on vivitrol instead. Fast forward though - I get out of rehab in mid July? The first day that I’m out, I get a message from him. He is the first one to message me and ask me how I’m doing. At the time he was in a 6 month rehab program, but he could leave whenever they weren’t doing activities, he just had an early curfew. We talked on the phone that night I got out for hours, and I was so nervous that I couldn’t stop pacing around my house. The next night we talked on the phone again for hours, until early in the morning. We laughed, and told stories, and it was so nice. I was crushing hard but thought I was the only one. For the next couple nights after that we continued to talk on the phone, and the flirting we were doing became more obvious. He told me he was going to come over to my house to swim that week, without asking, and he did. That day I picked him up from the light rail, and my stomach was doing flips the entire way there. Seeing him in person, clean, for the first time, was incredible. He sparkled, and I know he had to have been able to tell how much I liked him right then. We went swimming and after me spending an hour low key flirting with him, he picks me up and holds me, and carries me around the pool. I must have been as red as a cherry. I felt something. Later we went inside and layed on my bed while petting Brockie, but we didn’t touch eachother. We both continued to pet Brockie until our hands touched the same spot and we ended up intertwined. I was so happy that I could fucking scream. We kissed, and fooled around a bit, and we were feeling bliss right then. I wanted to keep him. After that day, we took every opportunity we could to see eachother throughout the summer, I purposefully missed out on my favorite music festival because I didn’t want to miss out on time with him. We became official, and I was so into him. After a while, the curfew became more annoying, and I became increasingly scared that he was going to relapse when the day came closer that he was going to get out. I thought I loved him, why did I want to end things? I’ve never felt like I deserved happiness, and I definitely never thought I deserved love after being hurt so badly in the past, and abused emotionally/mentally so horribly. I began to feel so unstable, I ended things. I tried to muster up the courage to end it one day, but he didn’t get the hints. Later, I videochatted someone. That was so wrong. The next day we finally broke up. I cried like a baby, and he seemed to handle it so well, he was so sweet to me. He wanted to see me one last time and sing me a song he wrote me and I declined. We talked a little here and there after that. And he got out of rehab, I wondered how he was doing, what he was doing. He seemed to be going out with friends a lot. Somewhere in mid November we made plans to hang out. I picked him up. We were only hanging out as friends, catching up. He told me he had relapsed once. I told him I relapsed on crack, but not heroin. We dumpstered some places that night but mostly just had fun fucking around with each other. The night ended by us going back to my house. He played me the song he wrote me, and I bawled. I was sobbing. I couldn’t stand to look at him because the second he got in my car that day I knew I was falling in love with him again. And looking at him during and after that song proved it even more. He noticed I was teary eyed and hugged me, that’s when the waterworks really started. He talked sweetly to me and held me, and told me things were going to be okay. I was so confused. I didn’t know why I had ended things. I knew that I wanted him again though, After that we continued to hang out as much as possible, and I spent a lot of nights at his house, and him at mine. We became official again and the bottomless pit of emptiness I felt the entire time I was single, went away. I knew he was made for me, and I for him. We got into some petty fights, and I got upset over his choice to sell weed, as a recovering addict. I found out that the time he had relapsed in early November was because of me. He was hurting, because of me. Knowing that I hurt him made me sad, but in a away I felt that it sort of proved how much he actually did love me, which a part of me always doubted due to my anxiety. There was two different times after that in the next months where his mother found needles, etc in his room and accused him of using again, and she tried so hard to convince me that he was. But I believed him. Christmas happens, and a day or two later he goes through my phone and finds out that I video chatted someone the day before we broke up. It hurt him badly. He woke me up at 4 am telling me he found things on my phone that he didn’t like. By this time in our relationship, I felt more love than I ever did the first time around. I made him my entire world. He was everything to me, and I was so sensitive and vulnerable to him. It broke my heart knowing that I hurt him. That night/morning I noticed blood in the bathroom and him coming out of the bathroom with a belt in his hand, My anxiety and instincts told me that he used, and I felt so horribly about it that I felt physically ill. I asked him and he wouldn’t admit it. A couple days later I saw the marks on his arm. And after I left his house I messaged him about it, tellling him I knew, there was no disputing it at this point. I’m an addict too. I know what it looks like. He finally admitted it, and I stayed at his house for 4 days in a row so I could be there for him while was sick and to make sure he wouldn’t use. He promised he’d finally try to get on vivitrol. So I felt relieved. He had planned on getting the shot thursday of next week. Yesterday morning after spending the weekend at his house, I had to leave for work, and he wouldn’t come with me. And I made him promise me he wouldn’t use. I trusted him, because our weekend was so amazing and I felt so in love. Yesterday his mom accused him of being high, I told him to be honest with me if he was and I wouldn’t be mad. He said he wasn’t. I picked him up later that day. This morning we had sex and he couldn’t finish. Just like he couldn’t finish the night he had used. I looked at his arms and saw new marks and I broke down. So angry and hurt and heartbroken and confused because he lied to me again. Lies hurt so badly. And I desperately want things to work with us. I am truly madly in love with him. But I’m clean now. I’ve been clean. I can’t use. I don’t want to ruin my life again. And I do not want to watch him ruin his. He means too much to me,
gummygunk
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
discoholicmusic
areudirty
romaincrisis
titsay
