Emotional Desperation

A Story by Break 2 Build

A roller coaster of desperation leads to ill choices. Could it be a suicide note? Could it be a memoir by someone who has made peace with life? We got to break in order to build.

I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to be caught in this complicated web of lies, disloyalty and betrayal. I never wanted to be a bad person. I actually dreaded being a bad person. I guess I had always known that I had it in me and somehow found comfort in people’s approval of how I lived my life until I got entrapped in that lie. But is it a lie if even I believe it? If I'm even comfortable in it? It’s basically how I lived most of my life �" in fact, all of my life. It can’t be a lie, it must be who I am. It has grown on me.
My desperation for approval created this façade sad world that turned out to be my life as I know it, which turned out to be my reality. I usually refrained from blaming others for how I turned out to be but not saying it out loud does not equate to not thinking about it. Of course, I imagine a life where I had both parents, I imagine the love of a father. That feeling that I imagine, though, must be a lie because I've never felt it in my life, I'm not in a position to even fabricate it.
Even though I haven’t majored in human behaviour I can safely deduce that my appreciation and excessive need for approval comes from the guilt I carry because of my father’s absence in my life. Somehow I feel like I'm the reason he isn’t with my mother anymore. He never even attempted to contact me. I passed all stages of growing up without him showing up �" childhood, adolescent and young adulthood, without even hearing his voice once.
The same guilt, however, must have fuelled the love I have. I feel like I need to love people more than I actually should so that they can stay in my life. I find myself compromising my principles and common sense behaviour just to accommodate other people. That should serve as my excuse for not asking about my father. I was, and still am, afraid that my mother might walk away like my father if I push too hard, demanding answers to questions I believe she doesn’t want to answer.
Okay, enough about my guilt. Is it wrong that I tend not to see the terrible choices I make and let my feelings shift gears as I stand back in fear? Should it even be wrong? After all the human species are meant to let positivity steer their lives as they sit back and hope for fate to be generous. To think that no matter how much I have been hurt I've convinced myself that evil doesn’t exist, that there's always a positive motive behind every evil deed. At least that way I was able to live without caring a burden of hating someone �" my father.
My sentiments however changed when I did an evil act that was just driven by emotional desperation and nothing beyond �" no positive motive behind it, no hope for future beyond it. So, I slept with my best friend’s baby daddy who is also my boyfriend’s childhood friend, and I have no excuse for doing it. I can’t even blame my father for this one, even if I wanted to I couldn’t do it rationally.
My boyfriend and I are not in the best space in our relationship �" we actually never have been in a good space. Somehow our relationship has always been Titanic on its last moments. I've always gave him no other choice but to stay and also forced myself to stay. My best friend, in the other hand, broke up with her baby daddy. The break up might have affected me more than it did them.
My best friend is undoubtedly my better half, that one person in the world who gets me more than I even get myself. Someone whose truths presented in words could shatter my world. The friendship and level of freeness goes both ways, I also know her deepest secrets and shames as she does mine. Well, she introduced me to his baby daddy who was then her boyfriend. A sweet, caring, loving and warm soul who, like everyone else, has his fair share of flaws. We connected in a way, we clicked and formed a friendship of our own which was based on the perimeters of his relationship with my best friend but as time went by our friendship started having its own ground.
It was a little bit challenging because both friendships were put on the table and I had to draw some sort of lines in respect of the information I share with the couple about each other. I had to keep separate files of lovers as though they were those of strangers, but with time that didn’t even seem like something I had to do �" it was just automatically done. The second friendship always had limitations because he knew that I’d never put him before my dear best friend.
Few years into it he was already confusing my friend to me. Addressing her using my name and constantly pointed out our similarities to her. Before I knew it we were already flirting and I was loving every second of it, mostly because my best friend and I used to joke about it. Soon after that we opened ourselves to a love triangle that he didn’t consent.
It was so flattering, every time my friend told me about what a gentlemen he was I would feel content, as though he was satisfying my own needs. Apparent jealousy that I pointed out to my best friend was a frequent visitor in my life as my best friend shared some of the intimate moments she shared with him. I was happy though, happy that she got to have everything that I ever wished for.
Yes, he was just all that I have ever wished for �" from the personality, physique, skin colour, hobbies, intellect level. Everything. He was actually not a wish I orchestrated from scratch. The wish manifested and came to be after few years of hopeless romance with my boyfriend. I started wishing that my boyfriend was a better person, unbeknownst to me that I was actually wishing for his childhood friend. I was simply just wishing for someone who could cater to my needs without any ulterior motives. My best friend’s baby daddy was basically the fantasy version of my boyfriend.
Oh yes, they had a lot in common. He was indeed a version of what my fantasy boyfriend would be, based on my real boyfriend. They were just as much similar as he liked to point out that my best friend and I were. It would’ve been a fairy tale if my best friend and I just switched partners. But no, my best friend despises my boyfriend. Not that I blame her, the guy has being doing nothing but tearing me apart for the years I've put up with him.
I'm to blame for this one. I'm the one who doesn’t want to let go and doesn’t want to be let go. I am the one who saw that he was a leech and pointed him to the fattest and richest vein and told him to hang on. I'm the one who keeps on hoping that one day he’ll change and be the guy I see in my dreams. Well, at least that was the case until my best friend’s baby daddy became the living version of the guy in my dreams.
As my friendship developed with him, his relationship with my best friend deteriorated �" not because of me. Thank God, I don’t think I would’ve been able to live with myself. As I've mentioned before, this guy is not a saint. In fact, he's far away from being a saint. You’d think two friends who care about him will be enough to satisfy his ego but no, he goes around introducing more girls into the maze. You’d once again think that having impregnated my best friend would stop him but it just made him feel like he had built enough momentum and could just go around causing more destruction.
In the third and final trimester of her pregnancy my best friend caught this guy cheating and decided to end things. It wasn’t the first nor the second time he had done it. It was a habit, a bad one because it was more than twice where he was caught cheating with the same girl who is six years younger than him. My best friend, boyfriend and I are only two years younger than him.
Once again I was tested and had to listen to two sides of the same story without passing judgement, and even had to listen to the same story twice without revealing having heard it before from the other party. This is where my friendship with him took a firm stand on its own. That’s when he realised that I was actually the only true friend he had �" not that he lacked friends just that he hadn’t put himself to be as open to them as he was to me.
I was there for him, for her too. Even though I feel like I was there for him more than I was for my best friend. But she acted strong and unaffected. She never gave herself time to cry on my shoulder, most probably because she knew that the person who hurt her was my friend, but besides that, she is not the kind of person to cry over spilled milk. He, however, saw the need to let it all out on me. Somehow I ended up carrying his burden, feeling sorry for him even though he brought it all upon himself.
At some point my heart was shattered as though he broke up with me. I think I should’ve rejoiced that I could finally have him for myself but I didn’t. I felt like if there was ever a chance for me to have him it was all in the past. I felt like I stood a better chance of having him when he was still with my best friend than when he was no longer with her. I had somehow grown comfortable with the love triangle and accepted that I was never going to have him.
The heartbreak I got from their break up was just as intense as when I learnt that he was going to be a father. It’s weird that I was extremely happy for my best friend, but I was always torn when I thought of him as a father. I know I should’ve been happy for both of them, but I couldn’t. Perhaps it’s because I never knew how to appreciate a father and maybe because I tend to think that fathers cannot be good people. Maybe it’s because I might secretly hate my father and the thought of him being a father made me fear hating him.
I seriously didn’t want to hate him. The endless reasons provided to me to hate him were all futile. Not even being a father prospered �" but that’s because I ceased seeing him as such before his son was even born, I just saw him as the guy from my fantasy. The guy who could make me happy by just smiling. I was too desperate to find the guy my boyfriend promised to be. He was that guy. His poising smile was just as dangerous as his compelling laughter. Somehow I didn’t even see the bustard he was for hurting my heavily pregnant best friend. Somehow he was not that guy.
The fantasy guy began to cloth my eyes and started to take over. He became the lie I believe, he became my life. Is he not my best friend’s baby daddy now that I let the fantasy guy come to life and believe that he has? Is he not trash? Is he not a cute douchebag? I guess to a certain point I like to believe the truth I see, the truth I make, and that’s what let me to sleeping with him. I was sleeping with the guy from my fantasy and not my best friend’s baby daddy.
That opened my eyes. Reality came buzzing like bees on sugar. I knew for a fact that I loved him. I have always loved him. He also knows that I love him and he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He has decided to keep the girl that cost him his baby mama. So, there's me �" the thin paper floating on air. He cares for me, deeply so, but he's not yet ready to face the demons I have to deal with on a daily basis. I might be making excuses for him and fooling myself into believing what I want to see, but the truth is finally in my eyes.
I know that my boyfriend is scared of the world. I know that my best friend is a strong young woman I've ever came across in my life. I know that the fantasy guy is the love of my life. I know that I can’t continue living a lie that I've made myself believe. I know I can’t blame my father for how I turned out to be. I know for a fact that it is not my father’s fault that I'm gay.