Have you ever loved someone so much, you have stopped caring about yourself and that made the other person hate you?
Yeah.
It's a hellhole of a life, that I live.
Did i choose this?
Let's not be all motvational and say, that everybody has the option to choose their life.
I didn't choose bulimia, I didn't choose depression and I sure as hell didn't choose to want to kill myself. If I could, I would gladly do this all over again. Made different choices and didn't meet some people.
And, for sure, I would never have met him.
I would do anything to never get to know him again.
What happened?, you're probably asking right now. Is he a bad person? Is he nasty? Rude? Selfish? Is he agressive or abusive?
Well, no. It's neither of them.
To be honest, you've never met more selfless person. Someone so passionate about what he's doing, doesn't matter if it's cooking, playing the piano or just cleaning the house. You've probably never met someone so sweet, so cute, so nice but also honest. Too honest sometimes, for his own good.
It began three years ago. My ex and I were spending some time in Brno, Czech republic. We were bored at the time, so he offered to introduce someone to me. His friend.
I was nervous. It was just the time in my age where I was shy and uncomfortable around new people. Of course this "friend of his" was curious. He was asking many questions and then, finally, he agreed to meet us.

I don't know, who I was expecting, but a short guy with dark brown short hair and some blond colour mixed in it appeared out of nowhere, holding a rainbow coloured bag around his shoulder, smiling like the biggest sunshine on the whole world. His dark, almost black eyes were sparkling and he offered me a hand to shake.

"I'm Dan," he said so smoothly, I could melt right in front of him. "Karolína," I answered and shook his hand. "So... Kája?" He asked me and I just slightly nodded. I was used to Czechs giving me this nickname. To be honest, I don't really remember that day as much as I'd like to. All in all, it was the day I met him.
All I can remember to this day is, how we went to see a church on kind of steep hill, then we started drinking and at that moment, all of my worries dissapeared.
To spare you all the nasty details, we drank too much, ended on the hotel room throwing up.. It wasn't something you'd like to see but many people go through that at least once in their lifetime.
The next day we were hungout and trying to figure out, how the hell did we survive Tatratea. But it wasn't exactly something, that would bother me as much, as him laying half naked on the sofa, half dead.
Fairly enough, he woke up just as I was staring at him. To this day I have no idea how he wasn't scared of me, when I looked like the biggest drunk on the planet Earth, with my hair all messed up and if I wore make up (which I hope I didn't), it was probably everywhere.
I offered to make both guys brakfast and they agreed, so even in my half dead state I counted as a cook.
I don't remember much of that day either, but our time was running out and I had to return to Slovakia. To come home.
It wasn't a very long journey, I think it took an hour and half to get to Bratislava, but from there, I had to change the train to get to the village I lived in.
Gods on the fucking sky knew, what he hell they were doing, so my train was delayed for almost an hour and I had no other choice, than to stand in front of the train station, smoking.
Out of nowhere, there was a call from some number I did not recognize. At the time I didn't know much about the phone numbers from foreign countries, so first three numbers +420 didn't ring any bells to me. But I took the call. There were sniffles and audible crying coming from the other side. "Hello?" I said quietly, when the voice I know better than anything answered.

And there he was, talking about his teachers discriminating against him, how his mother beats him up and how his father sees him like nothing more than a failure. He's gay. I always knew gay guys don't have it easy, but I've never had a gay guy as a friend before, so this was fairly new to me.
So, my train had bigger and bigger delay and there I was, standing in front of train station, smoking and trying to calm him down. It felt as we've known eachother for ages, we discussed everything we could and when it finally came the time for me to leave, we said our goodbyes once more and hung up.
There was a long pause before we talked again... or, sent messages, in our case. But when it started, I started falling for him.
He sent many videos of him singing and playing the piano to me, we shared photos and memes and every day I spent more time on my phone, sending more messages. Somewhere deep inside I knew this couldn't work out. He knew more about me, but all I've heard from him were the same old things he told me when we started texting. And then, we started meeting up.
If you think it couldn't possibly get any worse, I was stupid enough to tell him, I loved him. I was scared. He could have left, he could have never talked to me again. Instead, he hugged me, held my hand and kissed me.
When I look at it right now, I should have ran like never before. But of course I didn't. I was in love with him so much, I lived for the feeling of him expressing the love back to me. It had consumed me alive. I started my day thinking about him and went to sleep hoping, he'll text back in the morning.
Some of you are probably shaking your head right now and some think to yourself oh, what a cute love story.
Excuse me, bitch, there's nothing cute about what started happening.
I suffered from bulimia when we met, but it only got worse with the time passing us by. Depression made me deeply suicidal and two years in a row, I spent New Year's Eve crying, drowning in the waves of self-harm and texting him, to leave me the fuck alone.
He didn't obey. He never left me alone. It was me, who was holding onto my depression with my god damned long nails, trying to discourage him.
It all came to the point, where we found a flat in Prague and moved in together. What had possessed me to do such a stupid decision, I have no idea. I kind of regret going for it. You know, paying so much money for rent every month, losing two jobs back to back, being rejected as 'not good enough' for the third job I was motivated to do and ending up with a job that's barely paid would discourage many people in better situation than I was.
But that's only one side of the coin life decided to throw for me.
Everything became harder. Depression eating me alive, me almost eating Daniel alive because bulimic tendencies couldn't let me sleep, more and more fights, more and more tears, cuts and burns, my heart was broken over and over again and I couldn't do it anymore.
I tried to take my own life. Not once. But I always came back home, rinsing blood from my arms and legs and standing on my shaking feet, going on with life.
It came to the point where I'm just overall depressed. I'm not eating, I'm cold all the time. Just a few hours ago I told him to keep a distance between us. Not to hug me. Not to touch me. And it hurts, but it's something i need to do for myself.
I can't keep loving him. I can't keep craving his touch, missing his fragrance, wanting his attention. I can't do it anymore.
I need to let go. I need to let him go.