The Melancholy Life of a College Graduate

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My Journey Through Anxiety & Depression (Part 4: The Horrors of a Blissful Relationship)


The very first time I started to get paranoid was on my second date with Luna. She brought me back to her place, which right away sent signals off in my head. My entire goal in dating at this point was to find a legitimate relationship. I was scarred from my friends with benefits relationship, entered a legit relationship that only lasted one month but was also highly sexualized, went through a series of dates that went nowhere, and finally found a girl that I decided would be another relationship that would be purely sex and I removed any other form of emotion or intimacy from it. When Luna pulled me into her apartment I instantly became terrified I was falling back into the same sexual shit storm I had wanted to come out of.

Just like that Blink 182 song “we started making out, then she took off my pants” (Alright, bad reference since I didn’t actually turn on the TV). She gave me a handjob and made me cum on myself. I also played with her clit until she came. Right away I felt awkward because A) I was covered and cum and B) I was afraid that I had been used. I asked her if she was going to use me as a sex toy. She said no. She had also asked if I wanted to spend the night. I told her I was too tired and needed to get back home. The real reason was that I was afraid my mother would get worried since she usually expects me home and I have never strayed away from this expectation. I left and felt a little bad the next day since it’s more then likely she started to become paranoid she would never see me again. She even talked about how the last two guys she tried to date had left her on the second date! Wow! I can’t believe what a jackass I was for leaving.

The third and fourth date soon came along and I felt much happier. The relationship was heading in a sugary sweet direction. Although it tasted good, I was keeping my distance since I was afraid I would get hurt again. She started to hold my hand and kiss me a numerous amount of times. I found it strange since I wasn’t exactly used to this affection anymore. No matter how kind she has been to me or how great the relationship looks on paper, I still was paranoid that she could leave me at any minute. The fact that she was also an incredibly sexual person scared me. I’ve been cheated on twice in the past and I wouldn’t be able to take it if it would happen again.

Fast forward a couple more weeks and I noticed Luna would be taking a tremendous amount of time to respond to my texts. This is what first truly set my anxiety off to another level. This is the same anxiety I felt every time my previous ex wouldn’t message me back and I knew she was spending time with another guy. I know this wasn’t the same and Luna even assured me she wouldn’t be the type to cheat on someone, yet my anxiety still grew no matter how hard I wanted to believe her. Soon afterwords my anxiety grew inside the bedroom. At first I was too nervous to have sex with her. Aside from being scared of my occasional erectile dysfunction, I’m sure there has to be other reasons embedded deep down inside of me that scared me away from sex.

At first I avoided it but then I felt like I had to perform since she was begging for it. We did wind up having sex and it was great! However, we tried a second time and I couldn’t get it up. We fell asleep


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My Journey Through Anxiety & Depression (Part 3: The New Life)


What went wrong? I wish I knew the answer. In fact I wish I knew the answer to many of the questions I have about myself and life in general. This is the second time I am experiencing what feels like the beginning of a depression. Although what is bothering me most right now, is extreme bouts of anxiety. Hopefully this time it doesn’t last long.

I woke up one morning in my brand new apartment last week. Next to me was my beautiful brand new girlfriend. A wave of anxiety and nausea hit me. My heart beat started to race and I had no idea why this was happening to me. I took my brand new commute to work on the train and my panic mode button was still on as I kissed my girlfriend goodbye. Once I came back to work it went away. Finally, once I left to go home my anxiety hit me again, a rush of dread filled my body and mind. Once I got home, the anxiety calmed down a bit, but overall it lasted until I went to bed.

Now you just have to rinse and repeat this story except change the part with my girlfriend to me waking up alone in my bed. Every single fucking day, a rush of anxiety, a blast of emending doom. This non existent threat creeping up towards me, never striking, but lingering. Now you can picture me going on another date with my girlfriend and it no longer feels the same. Is there something wrong with the relationship? I start to wonder. No… it can’t be. I am absolutely blessed by it. Yet, the next time I see her, my feelings of passion and emotional bliss have gone away. Now even when I see my girlfriend I get my anxiety attack and bits and pieces of depression. Or even when I go home to my brand new apartment where I have the freedom to do whatever I want, I wind up getting an anxiety attack and small chunks of depression.

So what went wrong? I’m asking myself this yet again. Is it the new relationship? Does it bring back the haunting memories of all the bad breakups and relationships I went through? Is it the new apartment? Do I feel lonely or scared that I have a different routine and am no longer around my mother? Is it a combination of both? Could it involve anything else like my highly stressful job?

Let’s take a step back and see how I got here. Because I know for a fact that I was falling for this girl. I was very much enjoying the relationship. I had fun on every date we went on and always felt like I could talk with her with ease and comfort. I also know that I was highly anticipating the move to my new place. I was impatiently waiting as the electrician and handy man / painter would finish their job and then was waiting for all my furniture to move in. I wasn’t jumping for joy but I wasn’t scared either. I was just…waiting for it to happen and wanted it to happen so I could get a better commute, play games and movies at any hour that I wanted, and finally invite friends over.

Yet, when I finally got my new apartment and I finally made the relationship I had with this girl official (girlfriend / boyfriend), I didn’t feel anything. Really, nothing. I wasn’t happy but I wasn’t sad either. I just felt like I NEEDED both these things. Like about fucking time I finally got a new girl and about fucking time I finally got a new place for myself. But it doesn’t make much sense to me because I feel like both these moments are worth jumping for joy. They are worth the biggest smile in the world and worth celebrating. (TO BE CONTINUED).

Filed under depression depressed anxiety impending doom dread moving out one night stand fear of intimacy

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My Journey Through Depression (Part 2: Rant)


First of all I want to say “Fuck you” to myself. Is that grammatically correct? I don’t know and I don’t care. But “Fuck you (Insert real name here)” for writing a post in god damn February and not keeping up with how I was doing and how I was feeling. For Christ sake I had more to this depression story and I never got a chance to write it out!

Wonderful; here is Part 2 where I skip over 8 months of shit that has happened to me. This includes by the way a period of a month or so where I had felt really happy and never figured out why before plummeting back down. The point of the previous story (Part 1) was to slowly build my idea of what depression meant. I started with the death of my father, to the death of my dog, to my first breakup. I went through several more breakups in my life and at this point I had gotten completely fucked up emotionally.

Sometime in this year I had gone to a psychiatrist. My feelings have gotten so bad that I decided I would take on medication to solve all my problems. I had no idea what exactly was wrong and was feeling down everyday. The TRUE meaning of depression. Yes, I was also depressed during my first breakup but this was just an entirely different feeling. I started to feel numb in many parts of my life. I no longer wanted to shoot videos, make music, or write (clearly). I often didn’t even want to play video games which is my #1 passion in life. I stopped watching as many films as I used to. Everyday was a drag. I remember feeling like I never had any energy and I just stopped giving a shit.

When I decided to look for medicine, I wanted something to mainly fight anxiety but also depression. Everyday I would be in a huge panic mode and I never really had a good reason. The constant anxiety is probably what got me to my depressed state, although I’m sure there were other factors.

I went to this Chinese doctor. Her office was inside of her house and I’m pretty sure her husband greeted me and sat me down so I could wait for her. When I met her, she seemed a little bit clueless about my generation. I remember bringing up the fact that I felt used because I was in a “friends with benefits” relationship and wanted something more. She asked me what “friends with benefits” actually meant. Her perspective on life was very traditional to Chinese culture. She started to tell me how I should feel great that I have the job that I have, especially for my age, and was really of no help at all to my past relationship problems. My friend who is training to become a psychologist told me she did many things wrong, including the fact that she is not supposed to actually tell you things like “you should feel lucky and happy to have that job, etc.” Thank you mam, but I prefer to still say my job is a pile of horse dooky.

Afterwords she said I would be able to get prescribed medication. My mom, who used to be a nurse and has a masters inside the medical field, looked up the medication and told me she picked one of the worst ones for me. It apparently has the absolute worst kickback when you stop taking it. You become twice more depressed then when you were before the pills and this doctor that prescribed to me told me I could simply take it for a month and then stop. My mom told me that was a BAD idea and I also didn’t like that one of the main side affects was a decreased libido.

In any case, this post was more of an angry rant. It’s a bit different then my other ones since its a little more aggressive and less intellectual. It’s also one huge segue into my brand new depression I’m feeling once again, which started in October. Hurray! Let that story begin. (TO BE CONTINUED).

Filed under depression depressed chinese doctor psychiatrist medication

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My Journey Through Depression (Part 1: The Slope)


There were many times in my life when I had thought I was depressed and a countless number of times I’ve actually used the word “depressed” in conversation.  Think about the amount of times you or someone you know has said something along the lines of “that was so depressing” or “ugh, I’m feeling so depressed right now.” For most people, it becomes a common word that really only describes something as “really sad.” We love describing things in extremes when necessary. That water wasn’t just cold, it was FREEZING. I wasn’t just mad, I was FUCKING PISSED. I wasn’t just sad, I was DEPRESSED. I only knew depression as a word, a way to describe an emotion. I learned about it by seeing others say it during a conversation, watching a person who is depressed in a movie, or reading about it somewhere. So in high school I felt out of place, I felt like I was different and didn’t get enough attention. There was even a girl who I liked who didn’t like me back. At this point I classified myself as depressed. Was I really? Turns out it’s really hard to think you are feeling something when you never actually felt it in the first place.

My father died when I was younger. Think about how strong this statement is. If I imagine an adult or a teen that has lost a family member, I instantly think of depression. I think about how easy it is for someone to completely lose it and go down a dark path. A path filled with drugs, alcohol, suicide or madness. I for one have not had this experience. Yes, of course it was an incredibly sad month or so. But I was so young; I didn’t even know what death was. I could hardly grasp it when my mom told me. “Dead…you mean like…he’s never coming back?” Those were my words, or at least as close to it as I can remember.Maybe I do have some deep trauma that will never go away because of his death but I wouldn’t actually classify myself as being depressed because of this experience.

However, I do agree that it did affect the way I grew up. Getting raised by just your mother changes you, I’m sure there are plenty of studies out there stating why someone would need a father figure in their life. Really the only thing that bothers me is that one fucking line that almost everyone uses when they find out about my loss. “Oh I’m so sorry.” People will say something like this when they find out that my father is dead. They say this when they have embarrassed themselves after assuming that both my parents are alive. “Don’t worry.” I always say. “He passed away a long, long time ago.” I for some reason always try to soften the blow, try to let them know that I’m in no way offended or upset they reminded me about it.

Next there was the death of my dog. This was a step closer to depression. I grew up with my dog as a kid and had lived with him far longer than I had with my father. He was older than 10 years old, I forget exactly.  I could have been around 16 years old when he died; I spent so much time with him. It was much different than the death of my father. For one thing my parents had already been divorced so I wasn’t spending that much time with my father in the first place. I was also older now, I understood death. I was also the one that told my grandma and mom that “I think we have to put him down.” I saw his death coming right around the corner, I have no idea how I fell asleep that night. When I woke up I accompanied my dog to the vet where I stayed with him in the room, petting him as the vet put him to sleep. He lay motionless and I knew that it was over. Really the worst part was still coming home to my grandparent’s house every day, expecting him to be there. Every single time my brain was surprised that he wasn’t anywhere in the apartment. Now if I told you I was depressed, would that be logical to you? When someone tells you a story like this, it makes sense for you to describe it as depressing. You can see how a person can potentially be depressed. But was I? I was incredibly sad for a couple of months but I can’t say for sure that I know for a fact that I was depressed.

Here comes the big one. My first breakup… I still have trouble understanding emotions, especially emotions coming from my body and mind. If you think about it, it seems more logical that the death of a family member or pet would be far more depressing then a girl/guy telling you that she/he doesn’t want to spend any more time with you. Think about it. In death, you will NEVER see your loved one again. In a breakup, you know this person is still living and that you could still reach out to the person and talk with them. However, you can no longer, kiss, have sex, or be emotionally attached to them. You can’t call them every day to ask them how their day was and you can’t snuggle them while watching a movie. You can’t send them nude pics of yourself, expecting some sexy pictures in return, and you can’t tell them how much you still love them.

In my reality, my ex girlfriend might as well be dead because we never got to hang out again and eventually she started ignoring my messages. Now I’m starting to get it. Perhaps it does make more sense that a breakup would hurt more. Someone who is living actually chooses to take up so much of their energy to try to avoid you where as a dead person…well you know they would have still kept talking with you and loving you but they just experienced a tragedy that cannot be reversed. In any case, I feel much more confident describing my first experience with a breakup as depressing versus all the other sad moments in my life. Every day was a pain to get up. I remember dreaming a couple of times that we were still together or that she got back with me, yet I would wake up and my dreaded feelings of despair, anguish, fear, and loneliness would come flooding back. It’s that day to day feeling where I kept thinking negative thoughts and telling myself that I would never find anyone else like her. I feel much safer saying that this daily struggle was depression. (TO BE CONTINUED).

Filed under depression depressed journey death dead family dad dog breakup relationship end sad

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Going in Circles

Well…what can I say? This is awkward. *Empties out a breath of air* It’s been about 4 months since I’ve written, yet it feels like it’s been much longer. Why? Well, let me put it in perspective. Almost every single day for the past couple months; my mind reminded me that I need to start writing again. I need to write. I SHOULD write. I should do something, anything. I stopped DJ’ing, I stopped making videos, and I hardly even watch movies anymore. Really, I’ve been occupying most of my time with gaming. But it’s different now. It’s almost as if I’m forcing myself to play at times, killing as much time as I can on a day to day basis. You see, I wound up buying so many games but I don’t have the time to play all of them with my 9 to 5 job. Every time I come anywhere close to beating a handful of games I just wind up buying more, adding onto the list I’ve created of “games I need to beat.”

The sad part is that into my senior year of college, I want to say that the amount of games I played have dwindled to a small amount. The urge to play them has decreased as well. When I came home from college I started doing things I never really wanted to do in my life. I started thinking about spending more time outside and less time about feeling the need to escape into some virtual fantasy land. I felt like I’ve progressed in life. Not because I think games are a waste of time, but because I feel like I’ve expanded my horizon. I paid a bit more attention to my body. My skin actually wanted to feel the nice breeze, my legs wanted to feel the burn of my muscles contract as I went out for a light jog. I wanted to explore the world, continue to observe it during the night.

I’m still not sure if all of this was really how I felt. Parts of these activities, notably the times I started to go out to the bar near my neighborhood, felt a little forced. The reason being was that during this time I was going through a breakup. The last girl I had been with was Mara, and yes her name will continue to come up in a lot of my writings since over the years she has plagued my mind. She was the party girl. She was the one that introduced me to drinking. She was the one that hated standing still and liked having picnics outside. So part of me felt like I was doing all this to somehow get her attention, even though I knew she wasn’t looking.

Anyway, I just went on a tangent that threw me off a little. The point I’m trying to make is that I feel like I’ve gone in a circle. I feel like I’ve reverted back to whom I was before and that I’ve made no progress in my social life. Freshman year in college, I was the type of guy who would stay inside his room everyday and play video games, escaping the real world as often as I could. I would even ignore my friends since after school they would mainly want to play some sort of sport. This was definitely not for me, no sir. What I never learned in high school was that even if I hated the activity it was still a way to interact with friends and spend more time with them. Fast forward a couple years after I graduated from college and where has my life taken me? I’m back to playing video games every day, now escaping the harsher real world, the stressful job, the loveless romantic life. I’m no longer making plans with friends, it has become a hassle to travel such great distances just to see someone. Is there some greater meaning behind all this? Or is it really all happening because of my depression. Oh right, there’s that.

(I was going to leave this written piece at a cliff hanger but I wanted to add something. This is the first time in a long while that I really felt like writing. I see this as a positive thing. Even though it’s true, a lot of the days I told myself I “need” to write. But that never actually meant that I “wanted” to write. Today I hung out with a couple of college friends I haven’t seen in ages. I was happy. Yesterday I travelled in a snow storm for over 3 hours from work to my house. I came home, saw my mom, and was happy. I don’t know what it is but something might be changing for the better. I’m here to (hopefully) start writing again and get to the bottom of this.)

Filed under circle life past writing gaming addiction hermit social antisocial virtual fantasy escape

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The Jacket (Part 2)

*Story continued from Part 1*

As she came into the room I tried my best to ignore her and keep my eyes on the screen. When she came around the room giving people hugs, she eventually wound up standing in front of me. “Hug?” She asked me. So without any other choice I had to get up and give her a hug that I didn’t want to give. I didn’t feel much when it happened and I’m glad I didn’t. I sat back down and kept my eyes on the film. It started to worry me, what she would think about me after seeing the film. In a sense, it was my fault we were all in the room watching a documentary about video games and I didn’t want her to judge me because of this. Remember, I’m here now trying to play things cool, like nothing from this breakup affected me. I also wanted my appearance to look sexy, I had my jeans on, a nice shirt, and I put my contacts in which I NEVER do. The funny part about this is that she also had contacts in, which I had never seen her wear before. Anyways, the movie ended and most of the people seemed to have enjoyed it. Chad’s girlfriend was the only one complaining about it. At this point I don’t really care what Mara thought of the documentary or if my sexiness went down a couple notches for selecting such a film.

The rest of the party I avoided all contact with her. I avoided looking into her eyes and I never struck up a conversation. Most of the time I tried to stay away from her and stuck around my Asian friend or another mutual friend we had named Lily. There are only two points in the entire day that I had contact with Mara. The first was during dinner time. We had wound up in a diner and awkwardly enough we were sitting across from each other. But it was across an entire table length. Imagine a rectangle and both of us were sitting on the shorter sides of the rectangle on opposite ends. Yes, now you see what I’m talking about. She actually initiated the conversation at the table. She asked me how my trip was since she knew I was on vacation not too long ago. I instantly made eye contact with her and told her a small amount of details. I talked with confidence and smiled a fake smile. I went through the subject quickly and I don’t believe I asked her anything in return. The table conversation moved on and I begun to ignore her again. The next time I had contact with her was at the very end of the party. I anxiously awaited her to ask me about her jacket. We gathered around some cake and with the way everyone was sitting, I was closer to her then I wanted to be. I had a delightful conversation with Chads mother and she even mentioned how good I look and noticed I did not have my glasses on. Communication came between Mara and I because she told Chad she didn’t know which road to take to leave his house. Someone mentioned that I had a GPS and that she could follow my car. Luckily, this never wound up happening because I wanted to stay a bit longer and she had to leave sooner. She said goodbye to everyone, I don’t remember if I had to give her another hug or not. She left the house and with much surprise had never brought up the jacket, which was lying in my trunk.

Months go by and as expected, I never heard back from her. The jacket continued to haunt the interior of my vehicle and my perception of it changed over time. I imagined it nestled comfortably inside a large metal casing; a predator waiting to feed on an oblivious insect. Every time I opened my trunk I would see it staring at me or feel its presence. I knew I had to do something but part of me expected Mara to contact me about it.  There were days where I really thought I should burn the jacket, just as I had already told her I burnt it; as a joke. I had fantasies of recording the pyrotechnics and sending her a video of the burning fabric she had once owned. I had to do something about this cursed piece of clothing but I instead I kept waiting for the “right time” to do it.

On an average weekend, I decided to visit my friend Phil upstate. The details of the weekend are hazy but I do remember the very end of my time with him. I lifted open my trunk to put away the air mattress I slept on. Once again, I felt the jackets eyes on me and before I could close my trunk I thought to myself, “enough is enough!” Phil already knew about this whole jacket incident as I gave him the details the night before. I noticed he had a huge garbage bin right outside his house so I asked him if it was alright to dispose the jacket in there. He nodded; I grabbed the jacket, walked over to the dirty bin, and tossed the evil spirited thing inside. I didn’t feel much, I was expecting a curse to be lifted and was anticipating a great deal of satisfaction. But no, it was just like throwing out any ordinary item on the planet. As time went on I did however notice a change. This thing was no longer lingering around in my life. As the jacket died, one of the many connections I had with Mara the demon had disconnected.

Filed under jacket breakup heart break ex ex girlfriend birthday party objects awkward nice guy anger burn fire pyro garbage

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The Jacket (Part 1)


          What significance can a piece of clothing have? Let’s take one step back and think of this question in a broader sense. Can any inanimate object mean something to you? Its interesting how one particular object can be worthless; take it and throw it in the trash, while another one can be worth more than pure gold. Hoarders are the first group of people that pop into my head when I start thinking of giving meaning to possessions. They keep piles and piles of worthless items around for as long as they feel it necessary. Anyone else can look into their world and see a house filled with garbage but in their eyes these are thing they would never dare to throw out. It’s almost as if throwing something out would be like hacking off a piece of themselves and throwing it away. Now let’s take one step forward. I want to keep the idea of a worthless object but put significance inside it according to where it came from or from whom it came from.

          Let’s say you have that pocket watch your grandmother gave you or that silver necklace your deceased brother gifted you. It becomes sentimental and often enough people would do anything to keep that item safe. There’s also all those objects and items you keep around for memorabilia. The very first rock concert ticket you kept, or a wristband of the time you ran a couple of miles for cancer awareness, or the seashell you kept from the time you went to the most beautiful beach you had ever been to. What about those items you consider lucky? A hat that you always whore as a kid because you believed it had magical powers. What about those pieces of clothing you wear that you could never bring yourself to throw out? My sweater for example was starting to get ripped up, filled with holes, and I still wanted to keep wearing it.

          Usually these types of items bring positive and happy memories. Why else would you keep them around right?  I also want to mention that not all objects carry positive energy. What about the objects you deem to have bad luck associated with it? I’m sure you’ve heard about a cursed item before. My mind just wanders off to the imaginary land of fiction, where you walk into an ancient Chinese shop where the shopkeeper tries to sell you a cursed item for a discount and you can’t help but buy it because it’s so cheap. Or that piece of pirate treasure that should never be touched because otherwise the dead pirate captain will rise from their grave and kill you for taking it.

          Now I want to get to the point. As the title of this entry states, what I’m actually writing about is a jacket. It’s an ordinary jacket; it’s not cursed but it did give me a wave of good and bad memories. Well…mostly bad memories. This story is followed right after my 4th breakup with whom I’m calling Mara, the demon of seduction (Already written about in a four part series). I sorta felt my mind cracking during the relationship as well as during the breakup, but I still tried to hold onto her. So I proposed to her that we should become friends with benefits. We wound up kissing after the breakup and I also wound up fingering her in a public park. Things seemed to be going well again even though I knew I was trying to put myself into a fairy tale and my mind was creating a false fantasy. We talked about hanging out more often and playing it cool. At this point Halloween was coming and I still had memories of asking her if she wanted to do something on Halloween together. I didn’t think that was going to happen anymore but I did tell her about the costume I wanted to wear.

          My goal was to be the pop singer Ke$ha which basically means I was going out in women’s clothing, a wig, and some jewelry. With this idea already floating around I also legitimately feared being cold on October 31st whilst dressing down in short shorts and a tank top. Mara proposed lending me her Jacket for the costume. I liked this idea because I already went through the trouble of buying all my clothes, I didn’t have to spend more money, and I didn’t have to resort to asking my mom for a jacket and explaining why I needed it. At this point in time the disastrous hurricane named Sandy hit New York and several other states. This ruined the plans I had with my friends since traveling became impossible and we planned to do it in New York City which was going through a major recovery process. Time flew by, during Sandys aftermath I even felt my relationship dying a second time. I am referring to my fairy tale friends with benefits relationship. At first Mara used Sandy as an excuse to not see me but afterwards she also started to use her new job as an excuse not to see me. Anyways she slowly drifted away from my life and my mind. I tried to jump back into the dating world and that’s where the rest of my blogs kicked in. A handful of times I would realize that I still had Maras jacket. It stuck around like a wound that was too stubborn to heal. Once in a while I would even feel a kick in my emotional state of being. At some point I put the jacket deep in my closet and it was easier to forget. But then, out of the blue, the memory of the jacket came back with a vengeance.

          My friend’s birthday was coming up, his name is Chad and you can see him mentioned in Part 3 and 3-2 of the Mara: Demon of Seduction Series. Chad and his girlfriend are basically in the same circle of friends, so a handful of times I have hung out with him and Mara simultaneously. Knowing this, you can clearly see that I was incredibly worried of seeing my ex at the birthday party. I hoped that she would not show up but I pretty much knew she was going to be there, so I mentally prepared to see her. I knew I had to play it cool and make it seem like the breakup had no effect on me. My life should appear wonderful and I should show no interest in her. The day before the birthday party I was sitting at work, most likely browsing a website out of boredom. A Facebook message popped on my browser and I froze for a second realizing that Mara had just messaged me. I quickly remembered to breath and hated that familiar feeling that churned in my stomach. I tried to calm down and told my brain to pretend like it was no big deal. I wanted to think that I had forgotten about her and that I didn’t give a shit about what she was up to in her life, but I knew that was mostly a lie. She started the message off exactly as I am going to quote it (minus the name changes): “Hey pancakejunior, glad we’re both going to Chad’s birthday tomorrow. Can you do me a huge favor and bring my jacket with you? Thanks a bunch!”

          Bitch, you have got to be fucking kidding me. Do I even get a “how’s it going” or a simple “hello”? NO! Where is the small talk? This just shows that she did not want to put ANY fucking effort into knowing how I was. She doesn’t even want to talk to me! And when’s the last time we talked? It’s been months since I had heard from her!It truly pissed me off. I wasn’t upset, I was outraged. The message was unexpected, completely disrespectful, and hurtful. Keep in mind she was the one that cheated on me, she was the one that broke up with me, she was the one that kept playing with my emotions, and now I have to deal with “doing her a FAVOR” and bringing her jacket back? No! Fuck no! If she had asked in any other way, if she had started the conversation pretending to be interested in how my life was or how my day was going, maybe I would consider giving her stupid jacket back. But the way she presented her sentence and the fact that it randomly came to me after months of no contact… No, she is NOT seeing that jacket. After internally screaming and trying to think of what to say and if I should respond at all, I finally cooled down and this is exactly how I replied: “Sorry, already burnt it.”

Mara: “The funny thing is, I’m not sure if you’re serious or not.”

Me: “Haha. I guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

Mara: “See you tomorrow”

          Yeah, yeah, see you tomorrow cunt. I really had no idea what to do. Deep down inside, and I mean really deep down, the gentle and nice part of me was going to bring the jacket back to her. I mean think about it, why the hell did I even still have it in my house? Why didn’t I throw it out? There was still some part of me holding onto her whether I wanted to admit it or not. Going to the party and giving her the jacket would finally get rid of it. Good riddance, I would gladly like it out of my hands. But now I’m in a predicament. Giving the jacket back is no longer a means to an end; it no longer has anything to do with a kind gesture or the right thing to do. It comes down to principle and meeting these demands of returning the jacket to the devil would not do me any good. In a way I would feel manipulated, probably a similar kind of manipulation she might have pulled that lead me to fall for her in the past. My last thought led me to believe that if I did this for her I would be considered weak, something she actually sees me as already. I know she sees me as weak because when she broke up with me she told me the reason she did so was because I wasn’t dominant enough. So the decision to not return the jacket is made, right?

          Wrong. I still had an internal struggle with myself. I started messaging some friends and got two opinions. One girl told me that Mara was a bitch and that I shouldn’t bring it. One guy told me that nice guys are always the most valued winners in life. Giving back the jacket does not prove that I’m weak but still shows how good natured I am. He told me that if Mara had to tell her friends this story, the only thing she would be able to say is “oh my god, my freakin Ex was at the party. Ugh, I hate him so much; he even gave me back my jacket that I asked for.” She would be at a loss, there’s nothing bad she can say to her friends about me. On another note he also reminded me that there’s no reason why I should keep the jacket in the house. But the best advice that helped me decided on what to do next came from this simple strategy. Do not give her the jacket voluntarily; instead wait until she asks for it. I then would have to pretend I had forgotten where it is and then realize that I did bring it. “Agh yes, I think I did put it in the trunk of my car. Let me double check to see that it’s there.” This is what gives me power! On the other hand if I would instantly give her the jacket without her bringing up the subject, it would show how weak I am and how I still am thinking about her.

          The next day had arrived. I got ready, grabbed the jacket, and carelessly threw it into the trunk of my car. I had brought along an Asian friend of mine that Chad and Mara knew. He gave me comfort and extra courage to face my ex at the party. We were the first to arrive at Chad’s house, not including the fact that Chad’s girlfriend was already there from the night before. We sat around the TV watching some clips on Youtube and then I suggested we watch a movie I had brought. It was a documentary called “Indie Game: The Movie”. It’s about independent game developers and the struggles they go through to get their games out on the market. It’s very emotionally gripping and dramatic. So much so, that it made me tear up in various parts. I have started to notice that there are many strange moments where I would start crying when watching sad or dramatic films. Sometimes the scenes that make me cry aren’t even supposed to make the audience sad but it hurts me somehow. I feel like this started to happen because of the issues I have mentally about my bad relationships and not completely because of the films themselves. Whatever the case may be, this one in particularly really struck my nerves but I figured since it’s just the 3 of us and were all gamers, that my friends would appreciate the film. I didn’t count the 4th person, Chads girlfriends, as part of the group and this was rightfully so because at the end of the movie she expressed how incredibly boring the film was. The reason why I’m going into so many details with this documentary is because during the middle of the movie, the rest of his friends showed up for the party and this included Mara.


Filed under jacket breakup heart break ex ex girlfriend birthday party objects hoarder sentimental awkward nice guy anger