I'll post most of the entry I wrote in my journal here, because it basically tells the story of my relationship with him. And that brings me to where I am now, full of problematic thoughts and manipulative yearnings.
sometimes you don't know where you went right. that's how i feel now. now that my relationship with him is over, i can finally be free. maybe. or maybe i'm back in my caged up old hole. the internet is my only respite. without it, i'm alone. without someone in my life, without some driving force, without something to lead me on, something to do, I would die.
I don't want it to be like that anymore. I want to be in control of who I am. I want to love again. It's true that generally we need something to live for, but at the same time I don't want to have to have something to live for. if that makes any sense.
he didn't want me to besmirch his reputation. so let's just leave it at that. let's just say that everything went wrong. i want to write the entire story down, but i'm scared i'll be telling all his secrets. secrets are sacred, and he didn't want the world to know.
but i feel like this is the only place where i can tell. i feel like i need an outlet, somewhere along. and if people choose to blame me for it, so be it.
I ruined it. Or maybe he ruined it. Somewhere along, we both ruined it. It could have been beautiful, but we didn't recognise how sacred it was.
But here are the secrets. From here on, I ruin every possibility I ever had with him, every possibility I have, every possibility I will ever have.
His pornography obsession that stemmed from the fact that he had had traumatic experiences as a child. His neighbour had molested him and introduced him to porn. Somehow he still managed to forgive his neighbour, and say that it was because of the repressed and conservative nature of Indian society that homosexuals resorted to molestation sometimes. (His neighbour, apparently, was gay or might have been gay or was bisexual or something, or was a repressed homosexual, or whatever. Or maybe just a sick pervert.) Somehow he still managed to get out of his horrible experience as a child, even though he watched porn for a number of years. Obsessive pornography. Obsessive masturbation. Then, one night he felt suicidal and wanted to burn his hands. Or himself, maybe. (I can't remember. Maybe that sounds callous, but I honestly can't remember.) He somehow stopped watching porn, and he was alright for a year or two. Then he met me, and our relationship was blissful. Of course there were problems sometimes - I discussed my problems with him in great detail, telling him everything, spilling my heart out, whatever you want to call it. And he always counselled me out of my suicidal moods, out of my depressed funks, out of the fights I had with my parents, out of running away from home. He was always there for me. The perfect boyfriend. he understood that I could have crushes on other people, he even encouraged it sometimes, teasingly. He always loved me alone, though. Maybe it just never really occurred to him to have crushes on other people. Or maybe he was attracted once in a while, but those were just brief moments.
About the porn - he felt it was his duty to tell me in the first month of our relationship, because if I felt endangered by it, then we shouldn't be in a relationship. He was always noble.
Then in January 2007 we started fighting. I don't know about what. But we fought. And one day I brought a knife into my bedroom, thinking I would cut myself. My father freaked out when he found the knife and he called up him and said that he and I shouldn't date until after we finished school. (I think my father still believes that. I don't think my father ever really appreciated our relationship.) Around the same time my father found out that I had tried to have sex with him, and I confessed, saying I had even been afraid of pregnancy, even though I hadn't actually had sex. (OCD attack, basically. This would recur several times, even when we didn't even come close to real, actual sex.) My mother had already known, and although she thought we should wait, she never tried to stop me. But then, she lives in Chandigarh. I don't know what she would have done had she found out here, in the then and there. Anyway, my father demanded to write to one of his family members and tell them about what was going on. Since I knew his parents didn't even know we were in a relationship, I suggested his brother. My father and his brother (who is 33, married and lives in the US) struck up a correspondence. My father was scared and upset for me, and said that he should see a psychiatrist and shouldn't be counselling me. My father said a lot of other things as well, I guess, though I never read the emails.
I never trusted my father again. Now I've realized he probably looked at my email, since I've been careless with my passwords.
For a month he told me that his parents had found out about the relationship and had said we couldn't meet, and restricted the talking time to 10 minutes a day. Then he told me the truth. My father had said we couldn't meet and we should limit our talking time. He eventually broke down and told his parents, but that was a big mistake because his parents also weren't allowing him to meet me. After the month, we started meeting secretly, then finally I admitted to my parents I was meeting him, and we went out for a couple months, because my father wouldn't allow him and me to be alone at home ever again. Alone anywhere, for that matter, but Bapu (my father) didn't know about the hidey-holes we found.
After that our relationship became even shakier. We fought a lot, about anything and everything. About my suicidal moods, about him not being able to deal with my problems. So many things. He was getting more and more anxious and I guess finally he broke down. He started getting panic attacks. And he admitted he had been watching porn again since January. He started acting very anxious and sometimes slightly hyperactive or whatever after that. He was always asking me if I was alright. He was always worried about me. He started thinking too much about me. Counselling me had drained him completely. There was a six-hour phone call between us when he was in the US over the summer when I tried to break up with him about 4 or 5 or 6 times, angry and upset over something or other. Strange that I can't remember anymore. I don't know... Maybe I am callous after all.
Our relationship was very shaky after he returned from the US. But then it became kind of beautiful again, but not the way it was before January.
And then I started having to counsel him. The whole thing switched around. I had to deal with his moods. When I cut myself, finally, once, he was shocked and almost broke up with me. He didn't know how to deal anymore. So I begged him for a week, and finally he got back together with me. That was earlier this month. And then our relationship was even shakier.
Somewhere in the middle I pressurized him a great deal about sex. He didn't want to have sex because of so many reasons, but I did want to have sex. Maybe I'm a horrible person. I don't know. I didn't realize how much I was pressurizing him, and somehow I never stopped. And eventually we came very close to having sex, but didn't actually have sex. But more on this somewhere else, I guess.
I thought we would be okay. But his pornography obsession is increasing and increasing, and he doesn't seem to want to help himself. He's not doing his work, he's not going to school. Both of us have suffered a great deal academically. I eventually think I should be brave this time, and this shouldn't be the twentieth or so time I've tried to break up with him. This should be it.
He told me I'd helped him a great deal, helped him come out about his traumatic past. And he had learnt a lot from me. And to take care of myself... And he told me he loves me.
Today he tried to call me a lot of times, but I didn't pick up. I cut his calls and didn't answer his messages. Apparently he tried to call me in the morning but I was in the bathroom and my dad answered. And then his brother called my dad (all the way from the US) to ask how I was doing, while I was at school.
He cares. But our relationship was too destructive. it's not about whose fault it is. it's just that things became too complicated and I don't know how to fix them anymore. I don't think he knows how to fix them either. and yesterday night I cut myself again, and I don't know what to do anymore..
I'm just kind of lonely. isn't that the strangest thing to say at the offset of it all? but it's true. i don't want to sound all over-angsty, but maybe I am over-angsty.