#like yea dear flatmate i can change the way i do things so it fits you but also i will not say stuff that annoys me bc confrontation

[feralchaoschild]

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[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

I saw you posted my letter. Thank you for it. Somehow having people read what I go through at times can really help. I know it sounds silly. Last time I wrote to you, I was caught up in myself. I still am. You’ll se. But still, I’d like to ask you how you are. I know you don’t answer to the letters you put on here, but I just think that you, too, need to be heard and that you matter a lot, considering the things you do for all of us. So, yea… I hope you are alright. Thank you for everything. So…About her and me. We met in the end. I booked an overpriced flight 2 weeks before the meeting because I had to see her. I didn’t care what anybody said. I didn’t care my mom doesn’t want me to meet “strangers”. She isn’t a stranger. I have seen her over face time. I have heard her voice. I know her better than myself. And she knows more about me than anybody. But I can’t tell my mom or dad. They don’t know about her. How the hell am I supposed to tell them…? You know, where I live, people aren’t exactly homophobic. It’s accepted. But not well seen. My dad is intolerant. My mom plays it cool. But I see the way they both look at gay couples, frowning. I don’t know how to come out of the closet. Where I usually live, nobody knows. Maybe a „friend“, but she doesn’t care much about me anymore. I thought I mattered to her. We shared our writings, our fears and she felt like a best friend. In the end it turnt out that she was only using me and that she doesn’t care. I was dropped like a hot potato, just like always. I always idealise people. And then they disappoint me. It is that way right now. But I’ll come back on this later. I am not out in the country I live in. But I am out here in Canada. I am currently doing a mobility semester. And people here are so much more open. It’s in the french part and I met a lot of international students. In my flat, I live with 2 people from the french part in Switzerland and by coincidence I met a french girl, and others. We are a group of 10 now. They are all french native speakers. I am not. English isn’t my native language either. But that doesn’t really matter now. I am drifting away. Gosh..Charlie, I have so many things to tell and my head is a huge mess. I need to order things. Sorry for this mess. So..one of the girls started talking about her girlfriend and then asked „es-tu en couple?“ which means as much as „are you in a relationship?“. Usually people ask me if I have a boyfriend and I say no. Here I said yes. Because I am. And there is no point in hiding it. So she was the first person I told about my girlfriend and it freed me. Soon my flatmates asked the same question and then some people from uni did too. I told the truth. For the first time ever. And the more I say it, the better I feel about it. It was hard for me to accept myself. When everything around you somehow makes you feel as though it is bad to like the same sex, you don’t want to believe yourself. I had dates before. 2. With guys. I hated it. I’d never kissed anyone. So yea..A and I met in the end. I went to visit. And it was the best week ever. I loved it. I love her. She was my first kiss. And yes, maybe I take things extra slow. I am really insecure and she has fears I am not allowed to talk about because that is her business and not mine. But…she is just amazing. And I trust her. She trusts me. And her fears are fading away. It’s good. Really good. It hasn’t always been. I don’t like to call our relationship toxic, but sometimes that’s exactly what it is. She hurts me a lot when she is hurting. Shutting me out, being cold, distant, and sometimes even rude. Out of the blue she will give monosyllabic answers and not talk to me anymore. So…she broke up with me over nothing. She said she wasn’t healthy for me and that she was toxic. I said she wasn’t. But truly…she was. But I couldn’t live without her. Yes…call me dramatic, call me cheesy and call me an actress in a soap opera. I know, okay? I’m horrible. I didn’t want to accept she went away. I didn’t sleep that night. And the day after I begged her to come back. She said she never stopped loving me and that she regretted breaking up, that she had done it for my best. I said I could forget about it. Really…it took me very long to forgive her. She doesn’t know that. She doesn’t have to know everything. Things are hard enough for her and what matters is that we are okay now. I put everything she gave me when we met into a box in my closet and didn’t take anything with me to Canada. Sometimes I really hate myself for it. She got really distant after we got back together. Distant, cold hearted and rude. I asked what the matter was, she wouldn’t tell me. I was in Canada for the first week and she didn’t talk to me, refused to tell me what was wrong. I was destroyed. And mentally prepared to drop it and just take the first guy here and end up with him in bed. I wanted to forget her. But then she apologised. Out of the blue. Saying I’d hurt her the night we broke up. I was disappointed. I had asked her before if we were fine and if I’d hurt her. She said no. She lied. I hate lies. I don’t know what I said to hurt her, all I know she hurt me too and I didn’t behave like a jackass. But okay…let’s not get into this…it upsets me too much. I read a comment under my first letter asking if her and me are still together. Yes we are. It’s been nearly 7 months now. And we have had many lows. I was on the verge of telling her we are over when she started to push me away again. I talked to a friend on here about it and he told me for my own good I should leave her. But then again he isn’t objective at all. We’ve been talking for 4 years now and 2 years ago he said he’d fallen for me. I liked him. Maybe even in that way. But I didn’t want distance. With him it’s not even the same continent. It was a big no. So I lied about my feelings and shut him out completely. We started talking again 1 year ago and we’ve grown a lot closer. He still has feelings for me. I know it. He somehow told me… even though he has a girlfriend now. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Please don’t judge me Charlie. Please don’t tell me tumblr isn’t really life and love on here isn’t real love. I though so at first. I though long distance relationships were bullshit and I thought love was being close and speaking the same language. But it’s the heart that matters, and the language of the heart not of the mouth. It’s the feeling and not the ratio. Please don’t judge me and please don’t tell me it’s not real. It is very much real. I saw her. I kissed her. And everything was just right. It was as if a piece I didn’t know I was missing was finally given back to me. Right now, it is going very good with her. I want to see her again, as soon as I am back where I live. I told my mom I wanted to go there in February. My mom doesn’t want me to. She saw I was heartbroken after the breakup and asked why. I said a friend had left me. I said A left me. I tried to be close to the truth. My mom is really resentful. She doesn’t want to see me hurt again. She doesn’t want A’s mom to be a jackass to me again and I do understand but she doesn’t. How could she if she doesn’t know…. I wish I could tell her. But she wouldn’t understand. 1. A is girl. 2. I met her over internet and we live in different countries. How the hell do I explain that…? I don’t want to go back to being enclosed. I want to have the life I have here where I usually live. It’s across the ocean an the mentality is so different. I’m scared of coming out at home. I don’t know if I will manage to do so. Anyway. So many more things to tell you. I’m sorry for talking for so long. Words spill out. I’ve got class tomorrow and it’s past midnight, but somehow I had to write to you. So…I met this group of friends here. And we go on a lot of travels together, explore the country for the time we are here. It’s great. But I don’t feel as if I truly fit in. They go out a lot, they drink a lot. And I do too. But for different reasons. I have many off days where I don’t manage to get out of bed or to eat or study. I try to function but I can’t. Depression can hit hard. She makes it better. I spend a lot of time talking to her. I know it’s bad. It makes me retreat from society and the friends I found here. One night, I told C, my flatmate, about A and how she was toxic. That was when I was close to breaking up. I needed help. C told me I should break up. I knew. But I wanted to give A a last chance. And that’s exactly what I told her. I said that she was hurting me and that if this happened one more time, I’d be gone for good. After that A changed. She is trying really hard to be okay, and to be honest when she isn’t instead of pushing me away. About C…I really like her. I idealise her, a lot. She is an extrovert and really popular. She’s great, to be honest. Real and with deep thoughts. I like her. And I talked to her. But I regretted it afterwards. We haven’t known each other for long enough. Now I don’t really talk to her. I don’t really talk anymore. In general. On our road trips I sit in the back of the car and don’t talk. I stay in the background. Listen, observe, try to get to know the people and the way they interact. Sometimes I see more than there is. Sometimes I see deepness where there isn’t and I think that a smile hides pain but not everybody has pain to hide. I need to learn that. I generally feel like a bad person. And I don’t want to be. I feel selfish and as if I talk to much about me and don’t listen enough. I’m bad at smalltalk and I never know what to say. Integrating in my class is hard because I am with 4 different years (wasn’t possible differently with the schedules and the equivalents in my uni. anyway.) I feel alone a lot. Plus, I somehow don’t feel comfortable in french anymore. I don’t really dare talking. Words won’t come to me. I used to be better at french than english. Since I met A, that changed. I’m really insecure. And I feel like I am constantly seeking attention. Sometimes I think I am down only to have people notice. I don’t know anymore. On 28th of September, it was my birthday. I cried myself to sleep the day before because I wouldn’t be home for it and my mom wouldn’t hug me. Then, I woke up to the knocking of all my friends and C and Am (my other flatmate) had even baked a cake and they sang and it was amazing. I loved it. We then drove to Toronto. It was great. Monday it was C’s birthday. We baked her a cake. We drove back to here. 7 hours of car. And during the ride, C and Ca (a friend) talked, and Am and J (a girl from the group who doesn’t like me, I think) talked a lot and I didn’t hear anything because the music was loud. I felt left out. I’m scared of being left out. I am so scared of everything. C and Am have the same classes and they grow closer. I can only watch from afar. I often feel like I am not real. Like I am not in the situation. Condemned to watching and never able to interact. Maybe I am. Yes.. I definitely am…I’m pouring my heart out to you. It’s sad. But it helps. Thank you again. My stomach hurts a lot these days. Uni is tough. I am constantly stressed but also procrastinating because I don’t have the energy to do anything and I don’t know where to start so I don’t start. Which is bad considering I am a real perfectionist. We talked about drinking the other night. And S said I could drink a lot without being drunk quickly. That is NOT true. I am drunk after 2 beers and 2 shots of rum. But I know how to hide it. I hate to lose control. And even my drunk me hates it. She knows how to hide. I haven’t done anything else than hiding myself in my life. It’s not hard to hide being drunk. I can control it. Open eyes a little more, articulate more, concentrate on walking straight, preferring to sit. And I told S. She said sometimes, losing control is good. I know she is right. But I don’t know how to let go. I don’t know how to allow myself to be me and to not take responsibility. I am 20. All my friends here are older. Around 22 or 23. And I often feel like a kid. Even if I know that actually I am taking more responsibilities than them, I feel small. I’ve always been the youngest. I’m used to it. And I think that’s why I want control. Talking about control…I think I am losing it. Food is a huge issue. I know I am not fat. I feel like it though. I used to be thinner. And when I am feeling bad, I don’t eat because at least that, I can control. But lately I am binging too much. I eat far too much and by far not healthy enough. I don’t want to slip into an eating disorder. But truth is, I’ve been in one for long. Either not eating at all or eating everything in sight. And gosh..I hate me for it. I hate me for a lot of things. For example being like this. I don’t know how to describe this. I’m sorry if you think badly about me. Maybe I am really just a bad person. All I know is that I am complicated and trying to be a good person and be happy and change, but I don’t know how or where to start. It’s always the same. I never know where to start. Life overwhelms me a lot. And often. And when I think about the fact that in 2 years I will have a bachelor’s degree and be a formed teacher who can have a class, it makes me want to throw up. I am not ready. Everything is just too much and depression is rolling over me so often. Barcelona still gets to me. I had been there for 2 hours when the attack took place. My dad and mom where there too. I was so scared. i cried. That was a year ago. We didn’t know where to go. couldn’t find the hotel. Run from one place to another. Hiding. No food. Scared. My dad always ran in the wrong direction. he wanted to help. But how? He didn’t even have his gun. He was a tourist not an officer in Spain. But he didn’t want to listen. I needed him and he wanted to play the hero. It think that was the worst. Having to drag my dad with me. Running for my life but also for his, slowing us down both. So in addition to the fear of dying was the fear of my dad being hurt and dragging him into the right direction with me. And the kids crying and chairs dropping, people running, sunglasses and phones on the floor, bags and shoes and…then all the mass panic and running again and hiding and into the next shop… I still have nightmares. I still can’t breathe in big cities. I still flinch when a chair falls down or there is noise. Then there is H. She left 2 months ago. She said she’d never. I was in Montreal a week ago. She is from there. And I had a panic attack over seeing her. To a point where I wrote her a message begging her not to cross my way. Apparently that’s not something you say to somebody. I didn’t know it was a rude thing to say. English isn’t my native language. I already said that. Sorry. And H said she couldn’t be my friend because I reminded her of the past and that was too hard and that I please shouldn’t talk to her. Then, in Montreal, a litter bin fell down and there were so many people and I was close to tears. Everything came together. Fear of seeing H, fear of an attack, fear of people and getting lost. C asked why I was scared. She doesn’t understand. I don’t think she is good at reading people. Maybe she doesn’t want to see. I don’t know. I said there are just too many people. It was a half light truth. ugh..the night was horrible. The text I sent H was a drunk text and I regretted it badly the day after. I don’t know why things always get to me that much. I don’t get why people always leave me. There has to be something wrong with me. And yet I always hope that “this” person will be different. but then again, I am starting to be more careful. Not letting people in as easily and building up brick walls. It’s bad. I know. Sometimes I do let them in. But then I regret it. Sorry for being messy. I know, these last lines especially, don’t make sense. But they came to me. It’s 00:45 now. And now, after proofreading, it’s 01:20h… I have to get up in 6, now 5 hours….but okay. I am used to not sleeping. I take dance classes here. They make me really happy. I love it. When I dance, all the things around me disappear. I smile and feel the beat and nothing more. I jump home instead of walking. Yea okay, that’s exaggerated, but you get the idea I think. The teacher told me I was really good today. I loved hearing that. I dance since I’m 4. But I stopped at 16: anxiety and school stress. I started Salsa last year, met a guy, went on a date which was awful and didn’t dare going to class anymore. Here I do jive and lindy hop and even though it’s not my kind of music, I love dancing. It makes me forget the world around me. Call it cliché, but it’s the truth. I am really sorry for writing so much. I don’t do it often. This is the second time I tell you something and a lot has happened in between the letters. I don’t know where you are from, or what language you speak, but if you feel like it, listen to „la fête est finie“ by Orelsan. It’s not my kind of music, but I like it. It made me think about life a lot. Anyway. Thank you for you time to read this, thank you for doing what you do, Charlie. You’re gold. And again, I’m sorry for the mess of words and the overflow of information. I’m just really insecure and really…me. which I am not saying as a compliment. I hope I will be truly happy one day and that I will overcome this depression…but until then I’ll say until next time Charlie. Thank you. Love always, Lilly. P.S. My name isn’t Lilly, I just didn’t feel comfortable saying who I am the first time I wrote. I’m Lena. That fits me better. And it’s more honest. P.S. Maria, I hope you are fine. I’ve read some of your letters and you seem to be a really kind person with a lot of shit happening. I hope you’ll be okay. You deserve to be happy. 03.10.2018, 01:23am