You make me feel insane.

I wasn’t looking for romance. YOU wanted romance. I dared to hope BECAUSE of you. I was fine being single forever, I had accepted it.

And I thought I knew all the ways that a person could hurt me. I didn’t realize that I could do everything right, that the chemistry could be perfect, that almost every second spent in connection could feel amazing (seemingly reciprocally) — and that someone could still change their mind out of nowhere. And that chemistry is just… dead now? The way I made you feel is just… evaporated? I’ve gone from someone you were openly infatuated by and couldn’t keep your hands off of to an amorphous blob of asexual aromantic friendliness OVERNIGHT? I feel so fucking gaslit, but maybe that’s what actually happened inside your brain. Maybe a switch randomly turned off. Maybe you forced it off.

And I don’t want to hear you expressing gratitude for me awakening a part of you that you thought was dead. Fuck that. I’m so fucking glad that I could bring your sexual attraction out of dormancy so that the next person you date can feel desired and wanted in a way that I’m apparently not.

And I don’t want you to “make room” for me to be hurt and confused and frustrated, and to “be here to listen”. I’m hurt and confused and frustrated, and you don’t get to hear about it. My feelings aren’t safe with you. Maybe, MAYBE, if you could offer an explanation that made any sense, I would feel safer voicing my honest feelings. But you and your “I just feel like you feel better to me as a friend than a partner” is some bullshit. If it’s fear of intimacy like you said earlier, I get that. But I get the feeling you’re going to start dating other people, in which case, it’s not fear of intimacy, is it? It’s something you don’t like about me, but didn’t feel free to say at any point. And if you didn’t like something about me, why did you behave the way you did?

Or maybe it is fear of intimacy, maybe that is the real reason. In which case, dating other people is pure recklessness. And are you talking through any of this with your therapist? With anyone? Because, being aware of the problem very clearly doesn’t fix it. And it doesn’t matter how clearly you communicate with the people you’re dating, you’re still being reckless as fuck. Because you and I were dating casually, and even that was too much for you.

And I’m so fucking mad that I’m so fucking mad. I don’t get mad at sweet, kind, lovely people. I rarely feel anger at all. Being angry at a broken person whose biggest crime is not knowing what she wants is hardly a useful endeavor. But I know I’m not really angry, I’m just hurt, all over.

Dating you gave me a vision of a future I’d never dared to hope for. All of a sudden, I had a reason to get my shit together other than for my own survival. And yeah, that’s not great, my own survival should be a bigger and stronger motivator than any person. I should be intrinsically motivated, but I really struggle to be. That’s the part of me that’s broken. But I was motivated to look good for you, because you already thought that I look good, so I didn’t feel like I was trying to earn your attraction and/or love. I was motivated to land a more secure, sustainable income somehow in this apocalyptic hellscape, because I wanted to be someone a partner could rely on and not worry about.

And I liked being inside my head for the first time in a really long time. Before you, I had to drown out my thoughts and loneliness with YouTube videos and podcasts constantly. I needed to hear someone else talking so I wouldn’t hear myself. Then you happened, and all of a sudden, I didn’t want to hear anyone else talking. I started journaling more than I’d ever journaled before. I started just chilling for hours, listening to music. You inspired poetry. I spent less time on social media. I fucking loved being inside my head in a way I didn’t know was possible.

And now my head is worse than before I met you. I’m not suicidal, and I won’t be. I don’t want to self-harm, and I won’t. But I am dead inside. I do fantasize about getting hit by various pieces of heavy machinery, or getting beat up until I pass out. Because that’s how I feel on the inside. I’ve been crying for the past three days. I don’t know how long it’s going to take to cauterize this wound so that I can go back to suppressing everything like a normal functioning human, but I’m trying to get there as fast as possible.

And no. I don’t want to go out to queer bars with you so that you can wingman for me. You were it. I didn’t dare venture out to find love before you, and I sure as hell won’t now. I was already deeply terrified of being hurt. I had already massively been burned by so many unhinged, unwell women I’ve met whenever I’ve briefly thought about dating. And you unlocked an entirely new fear about a factor over which I have zero control. So no thank you, I do plan on dying alone, thanks anyway for the offer.

And stop trying to find “activities” for us to do now that we’re “friends”. I have news for you. I still want to get to know my friends, even if I’m not dating them. Friendship isn’t where I find fun things to do with another person to satisfy a shallow desire for social interaction. If we are going to be genuine friends at any point, you have to let me get to know you. You can’t distract me with “activities”. Being friends with me is still going to be uncomfortable as fuck for you, because it’s going to feel an awful lot like dating, just without the sexual/romantic connection. But the intimacy? The part that apparently terrified you? That’s not going anywhere if you choose to keep me in your life.