As far as jealous idiots can go, I can be one of the worst.
September 17, 2017
Hey, thank you for agreeing to listen. I hope that you also feel the need to speak your mind. You have always been a safe place for me, and I hope that you feel the same. No judgments. Just pure honesty. However, emotions are messy, and I apologize if anything I say comes off as harsh, extreme, or worse. All I ask is that you listen, and respond with your own emotions, whether you feel like they will hurt me too. It’s a safe space.
I have two questions for you so ensure there’s no misunderstandings. One, what do you think I want to talk to you about? And two, are you in a relationship?
It shouldn’t come off as a surprise that the last year has been a trial for me. There were points here where I felt like I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror because I just hated myself or was just so depressed. I felt so alone, and nobody back home initiated contact with me. Just me against this foreign, unforgiving world. I regretted confessing to you before I left. Yet, I knew that in my heart, that maybe, that just maybe, you’d give me a chance and that I could depend on you as a lifeline since I knew myself well enough to foresee that I would go through what I did. I hoped that maybe, this time, things would be different and I would have someone to be constantly there. Since our relationship was already turbulent to say the least, I felt that since you didn’t depend on me quite as a friend, maybe romantically, it’d be different. You would depend on me at your low points. I would depend on you at my own low points. That didn’t happen of course and I felt that I fucked up yet again. And yet, deep in my heart, I felt that, rather succumb to the negative energy I felt, I would channel the energy to effect positive change in the community here and love the students and townspeople. I would wait for you and improve myself to be a better man for you.
Over the year, in short spurts we would reunite. And unfortunately, I would always welcome you back with open arms and vice versa, you would welcome me with open arms. Yet as you can probably imagine or even remember, things were always rocky. The interactions we had were always so fleeting. There one moment and gone the next. I felt so angry, so bitter, so sad. I had thought that I could depend on you, but I felt like it was wrong. Since I didn’t know if you really wanted me as a romantic partner, much less a friend, I humored the idea that just maybe, I had a chance with you. That determination to wait for you and improve myself for you would drive me to persist onward, no matter the consequence.
I told you back on Skype last week that I recently had found out I am a demi. Someone who gets attached to people. When I learned that from my buddies Sam and Haley, it made sense why I, whenever we went out to any social gatherings or clubs or any social venue, I would refrain from even trying to date someone, much less touch someone sexually. I remember one Halloween party at a bar in the city where a Japanese friend of mine essentially acted as a wingman and had two Japanese girls after me since they found me attractive. They tried to come on to me very strongly, and yet, I felt that I needed to be friends with them and talked with them for a while about God knows what, them probably wondering why I refused their advances on me. At the back of my mind, “Wait for her. Give her time. Be a better man.”
I got through the dark times.
A few months ago, with little to no contact with you, I did a ton of reconsidering, reorienting my life for a number of reasons. I hated how whenever something joyful, or beautiful, or wonderful, or terrible happened, my first instinct was to message you or tell you about it. Yet, as I had told you previously, my love language is words of affirmation, and getting no sense of affirmation whenever I told you about something great that happened or anything, left me feeling broken. If she wouldn’t be present at the times where I’m actually happy, how can I depend on her when I’m truly down again? I felt angry. And sad. And disappointed. Emotions that are rare for me, and yet, I often feel in regards to you. It really wasn’t healthy at all being so attached to you. I asked myself, What is loving you the way I do all for? Loving you like I did? I’m being selfish. You would never see my worth and I would never be good enough for you. That’s depressing. I will never be good enough for you. I was tired of trying so hard for you. You had always told me how different you were, and that perhaps I was truly just in love with the concept of you, not really you herself. We were strangers. I figured you didn’t need me in your life and I had done enough waiting. The toll on my mental state and heart was just too much. Why continue waiting if you didn’t even consider trying to be there for me? It took awhile, but I convinced myself that these were the case. Alongside these notions, I became mentally and emotionally ready to cut you out of my life because you are toxic to me. I can’t move forward properly without that happening. I became satisfied with myself, that I can finally take that first step to recovery, to loving myself rather loving you.
And then a little less than a couple weeks ago, you messaged me, saying how much you missed me and thinking about me made your heart hurt and your regrets and how proud of me you were. When you first sent the message, I tried so hard to ignore it and just delete it. I knew that I needed to delete it and move on. I had steeled myself to do this to recover, after all. But I’m weak-willed and a stupid piece of shit. I opened your message, and read it. And I even responded. Why? Why would you do that Jordan? You were doing so well… And the conversation continued. Each time, me trying so hard to not open the message and to just carry on with life. I couldn’t though. You were always the only exception. No matter what I did, no matter what I do, I always allow you back into my life.
The things you said. They gave me hope. Hell, you gave me so much hope that I didn’t know what to do with it but share it with my students and coworkers and townspeople. This hope saw me rebound with energy I never thought I had. We were conversing like old times and we even skyped, the first time since me going to Japan. That was the first time you willingly went out of your way to Skype with me. And we skyped for hours. It was honestly so refreshing and I felt so damn happy, like I couldn’t believe how jubilant I felt. I went to sleep that night feeling so content—it was just like old times and as if nothing had changed between us.
We kept talking, like messaging really often about the little things and the big things. Again like old times. I was happy to have you back in my life. Unfortunately, I had interpreted the fact that we were suddenly on such good terms and the high frequency of talking as your volition to actually consider me as something more than a friend, or at least attempt to try. I messaged you often on the car ride while roadtripping to Sapporo with my buddy, about the small happinesses I was experiencing, and vice versa on your end. Pure bliss.
On Saturday, I wake up to your message, “I feel really empty.” Of course, I strive to ensure you’re okay and you say it’s nothing, actually something really stupid. You tell me that, you’re alright, but had a big fight with your boyfriend again about recurring issues. But it’d be fine. My heart drops. “Boyfriend?” I think. Hold on. I’ve waited for how long, you knew my feelings for you, and you have a boyfriend? Seriously? Fucking shit. Despite the feelings I felt, I tried to be there, but you insist you’re fine. “Ima get off the grid then!” I wanted to just enjoy the company with my buddy and process things properly. I felt heartbroken and angry and disappointed. I started crying in the car on the way to the camp.
The camp was amazing. With 30 or so ALTs, it was refreshing getting to know people and just chat away the pain I felt. Everyone was so lovely, and somehow, I developed a crush on someone there after talking with her for hours. Night comes and the party begins. Jordan gets drunk. I did things and said things that I couldn’t believe I had the capacity to do. Either way, I felt like shit.
I tried hard to distance myself from you thereafter, but never had the resolution to just ignore your messages and do what was best for me, which was to take the time necessary to cool down and not play the blame game. I was being petty, and I had thought so many nasty things. Nothing’s different. I’m just that guy she goes back to when she is having a hard time with the bad relationships she finds herself intricately involved with fall apart. The fleeting happiness that I felt isn’t worth the long term pain. Yes, I care about you. But if every fucking time you leave me feeling this heartbroken, I can’t. If I am to be a part of your happiness, it can’t be like this. I don’t even think we can even be friends because I’ll always feel the same love for you and you’ll always just crush me in the end. And perhaps vice versa.
It’s extremely frustrating that you had decided to contact me when I felt so ready to move on, after neglecting me for so long acting as if my feelings were negligible. Feigning ignorance or goodwill when you knew how I felt and how long I’ve waited all this time for you.
Again, maybe I’m just being petty. I’m just mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted from dealing with this shit for so long. You’ve never given me the opportunity and always been unfair like this. You’re in control of my heart. I’m fixated on you, and it’s not healthy at all.
What do you want? My friendship? Am I even able to give that to you? I can’t think I have the emotional capacity to do that as long as I feel like I’m not worthless in your eyes. I care too much about people and human relationships to feel the need to respond and affirm people for my own happiness, but the feeling’s ten-fold for you, which is dangerous. Logically, I need to get of your life. But because I see you the way I do, with this unconditional love, I can’t. It’s unfair, and I hate myself for being like this.
Yesterday, I woke up to sirens and alerts. I’m on the fourth floor of a capsule hotel in Sapporo, the largest city in Hokkaido. People’s phones are lighting up with messages. People are waking up, and some are evacuating. A missile was flying overhead, again. I’m terrified. I’m shaking, and my first instinct? To call you. To let you know that if anything happens to me, I love you. No, I can’t say that. Instead, I need to focus on my responsibilities as a block leader. From experience from the first missile, it will take approximately five minutes for the missile upon launch to reach Hokkaido and touchdown, if it happens. I message the new ALTs in the area immediately, “Another missile launched and passing overhead. Please be safe, fam.” I stay vigilant and focused. Yes, I’m shaking and terrified, but I needed to act. I look up information on the missile, staying knowledgeable and ready to inform my block members of any changes. Fuck I’m scared. What happens if I die today? Five minutes of pure adrenaline, and the missile passes overhead and we get the all clear, but to stay alert for any other missiles. On the verge of tears, I tell my block members that we’re all clear, and assuage their own fears, since many expressed concern last time and on this occasion too. I needed to stay strong.
Throughout the day, I’m in a funk. I couldn’t focus. Again, I could’ve died, eradicated from this earth. I felt melancholic. For nearly everybody, my fellow ALTs in Hokkaido, they received a phone call from loved ones back home, worried about their safety and well-being. I didn’t. I’m alone. Obviously, I can’t expect a call from my family. And friends? I don’t have any close friends; it’s always been like that. If I die today, what was my life all for?
I preoccupy myself ensuring my block members are feeling ok after the scare, and in the midst, I got a message from you. Shit. Feeling like the scum of the earth, I ignore it. James also messages me, which is rare unless something is off with you. Call me suspicious, or whatever. He asks about my birthday, which I misinterpret as him asking if I’m okay about the missile. “I mean if the missile hit and I died, then I’d have no regrets. But there are so many things to do and so many places to see and so many people to meet.” As soon as I said that, I questioned myself. Would I really have no regrets? Was I really truly living like I’m dying? And the answer is, I don’t know. I can’t help but to feel that I have many regrets, many having to do with you, nearly all stemming back to the how I missed my opportunity to ask you out freshman year and not being there for you in the ensuing chaos in sophomore year.
I spent all day today crying and existing, feeling like a piece of shit, scum on the earth.