Spoiler this will be long so grab some popcorn. So where do I begin. Well childhood seems like the place so let’s start there. I’m a child of divorce. My mom married an abusive narcissist and I had to deal with the fallout. To say I was isolated growing up would be a reach, I was never actually imprisoned. But the way my step father controlled things it made it seem as if that were the case. By the time I was “free” to do what I wanted to do, the street lights had already come on and all my friends would be doing their homework. And I wasn’t allowed to just wander the streets by myself. So I basically spent most of my time in my room. Alone. It was not my preference but what else was I to do? I made the best out of my situation. I read books, played games, drew, wrote short stories. But it was never enough. I craved interaction with people my own age. And the endless hours spent alone became my waking nightmare. I used to be so depressed that I had friends but no way to chill with them outside of school. That they all got to play and get into stuff with eachother. Im became jealous. But fret not, I did not go down that rabbit hole. I couldn’t. I was better than that. To allow myself to resent others because they got to have a childhood. One filled with social interactions. No. It’s not their fault my mother was a w**** with bad taste in men and no sense of accountability. No. What it did do was break me. Over time I became accustomed to my loneliness. and by the time I was a senior my mom had finally come to her senses and gave him the boot. Although it was too late for her to repair the damage he had done. What it did do was allow me to realize how far back I was from social development. Because I was finally free..with no idea how to interact with others. And it became very obvious that I was “weird” the more I hung out with people. You see isolation has a way of warping ones perspective. It changes the way you see feel and think about things. I found out quickly that I wasn’t a people pleaser or a sheep that mindlessly followed others. I don’t have a pack mentality. I see things for how they are and how they should be without bias. And that ladies and gents does not win you any popularity contests. Especially when dealing with religious or super spiritual people. But that’s not my crescendo. No. That topic will be for another time. This whole story is just to give you a glimpse, vaguely albeit, but a glimpse nonetheless into who I am. So I’ve told you this to say this. The thing I’ve wanted most in this life is to find someone that loves me for me that isn’t blood related. I want love. I want pure unadulterated love. And I’ve found it. And lost it. In train wreck fashion might I add. But it’s told me something about myself that I wouldn’t have known otherwise. I’m not meant to be loved. And I’m not meant to love. And before you get into your head, I know my worth, and I know what I’m talking about just keep reading and you’ll understand. I am a free spirit. Im not meant to be bottled up and tamed and listen to commands like some coexist animal. I need to be who I am at all times and I need to be able to do what I want when I want it. And having someone else in the mix complicates that. Because then you have to make compromises. Or deal with ultimatums. The latter being the bane of my existence. I am who I am and I won’t change that for anyone. Not again. I learned my lesson. The hard way. I tried to level with her. I tried to do certain things that were asked if me. And for the most part I didn’t even have to really try, because I loved her and I thought well if this makes her happy it makes me happy too. But that came all crashing down when she went after my character and my personality. Telling me I couldn’t drink, or smoke weed. Or that I couldn’t watch a show because it wasn’t PC. Or that I couldn’t even pick something up off the floor (like let’s say something that fell out of a laundry hamper) with my damn feet. I couldn’t make certain faces because it creeped her out. I couldn’t handle it. The pressure was on and I cracked. I realized that no matter what I did, I wouldn’t be good enough for her. Because at the end of the day I’m still me. And I’m going to ultimately do what I want to do. And that mentality killed that relationship. And I know I know, that relationship sounds toxic and you’re right it was. But if that’s all you can think and that I’ve jumped the gun on my stance then you were not paying attention. Yes the relationship was toxic, but it opened my eyes to what would await me in every future relationships. Being on a leash. And I don’t like that feeling. That feeling of having to walk on eggshells because you don’t want to upset someone you like. The constant struggle to do things you don’t want to do just to appease someone so they’ll love you. I can’t do it. I just can’t. I spent 13 years of my life as a prisoner inside my own house, I’ll be damned if I’m ever someone’s prisoner again. And again before jumping to conclusions, No I don’t hate women. I love women, women just don’t love me. Not the real me. The real me is a complicated mess. I’m like a sociopath with a heart. I was emotionally and physically abused so I’m really fucked inside my head. But through all of it I still have a good heart. I just sometimes do s***** things. And I usually feel remorse. But it will happen again. It’s just who I am. So in close, im just not capable of fulfilling what I always imagined life to be. The life I wanted. The life I should have had. It was robbed from me. And I carry that emotional baggage with me everywhere I go. And I cannot expect someone to ever love me for who I am with that amount of damage. Not even someone who was damaged themselves could understand why I do what I do or why I am the way that I am. Anyways I hope one day someone comes into my life and changes that perspective, but I remain doubtful, the chances are slim to none. Thanks for reading.