A copy paste from my tumblr.
"He broke up with me last night, and still found it to be okay to ask me to come see him tomorrow? So he could see me off with an awful air of finality. So he could have closure. I don’t want to because of course, he’s broken up with me over a bbm.
He broke up with me because of the London ticket. $820 and my parents bought him a plane ticket so he could go with me to study abroad. After months of having this non-refundable, non-changeable ticket, he tells me nonchalantly over the phone that he can’t go. Which I of course, get angry about, because it’s my goddamn parents that he’s screwing over, as well as myself.
He gets mad at me getting mad at him and breaks up with me.
Next day: I don’t sleep all night and I am stuck wandering Breakhart and then driving aimlessly in my car because my stomach and head hurts and there is nothing else to do when I am upset. As soon as daylight starts shining in, I am hit with a wave of nausea. I run to the bathroom and throw up. A terrifying thought pops into my head. I think I’m pregnant. After thinking through all the past symptoms, I think that I am. I grab a pregnancy test, test, it’s positive. Look at the label, it’s expired in 2009. Hyperventilate. Hyperventilate. Anxiety attack. Cry.
Hours later: I have cornered him into talking. But when I open my mouth an incoherence of words spills out. He says that this was a mistake. I stumble out the words that a pregnancy test was positive. After a lot of quasi petty to extremely serious talks and arguing, he makes me get up and go back to the house. He tells me to wait in the car, he says we’ll take it one step at a time. Finally after much persuasion, I agree. I’ll let him talk to his mother, as long as he promises not to tell her yet, not until he’s certain.
Well I’m parked on a no park zone so I pull up a side street and wait in my car. 20 minutes pass. Something is wrong. I call him. He tells me he is leaving with his mother and her boyfriend to New York and that “it’s okay because [he’ll] be back in a week”. Like that makes everything fucking okay.
His mother tells him to put himself first, which sort of makes sense because she’s his mother. But then the deal where you place your happiness at the very top even if it means trampling on everything else and everyone else around you. Pregnancy? No you fucking swallow your goddamn own problems and you buck the fuck up and deal with the ones we now have to.
I run up to the car, can’t make it, halfway, turn run to the park and throw up. No one even asks if I’m okay or alive or made it across the street in my shaky state. I run back. I don’t know where my car keys are so I stand outside my car crying and having a horrible, horrible anxiety attack. His mother, mother’s boyfriend, and him are literally trying their best to ignore me out of existence. Then I take two steps forward to steady myself. Immediately his mother’s boyfriend comes running at me and asks if I am okay, while I am dripping in tears and hyperventilating. I just give him a look. He asks if they as a collective group should call my family in Canada. It is 11AM, my parents are fucking 11-hour drive away and at work. I walk to the van to talk to my apparently hollow piece of ex-boyfriend. Mother’s boyfriend tries to stop me by physically affronting me. I am too exhausted and scared to punch him aside. He says if I don’t stop, he’ll call the police, and he pulls out his phone and he does. I frantically yell at the hollow shell of my ex-boyfriend where I’m going, what’s happening, why no one is taking me to the hospital. Ex-boyfriend throws his phone at me as if I’m supposed to have all the answers to the goddamn world now. NO actually, this isn’t the rest of the world’s potential baby, it’s YOURS you fucking fuck.
Mother says something to the effect of he needs time to think and it has to be away from you. No. Serious fuck you. You’re the one who is running away. You’re the one who can’t handle dealing with this. And because YOU can’t fucking handle it, you’re hauling your fucking son away so that I am left alone with this problem that by the way, despite however you keep trying to make it seem like, isn’t 100% my fault. Also the scum of the earth looks I keep getting are really not useful in any situation.
You can’t fucking drag your son away from the goddamn responsibilities you have failed to see are his to be responsible over.
Still in the ICU.
Under intensive surveillance because I’m under suicide-watch.
Help."
Of course I'm no longer in the hospital but things have not improved much.
I wish he would cut it the fuck out and stop saying that he loves me.
Or asking me to wait for him to get better and then maybe we can be together again.
Of course the only way for me to even consider being friends with him is for him to completely separate from his mother, which is a disgusting thing and a lot to ask for, but seeing my situation, it is not unreasonable for me to want that.
His mom forbids him to talk to me, or to see me, or to ever have any contact with me in the future for the rest of his life.
And he gets mad at me when I take issue with that or any of his mother's overbearing control (mind you this is coming from a woman who is mentally unstable herself and systematically destroyed her own relationship with his father [they're separated] and is completely unfit to educate anyone on life matters, particularly relationship ones). He says not to treat him like a child, because he is not. Which is incredibly stupid because not only is his mother treating him like a child, he is certainly acting like one.
I don't know how to cope, I don't know how to get better and stronger and I know it takes time but, I'm afraid that it will never be okay again. The situation with Robby still tears me apart and it has been over two years.
I just don't know what to do. I need help.
He broke up with me because of the London ticket. $820 and my parents bought him a plane ticket so he could go with me to study abroad. After months of having this non-refundable, non-changeable ticket, he tells me nonchalantly over the phone that he can’t go. Which I of course, get angry about, because it’s my goddamn parents that he’s screwing over, as well as myself.
He gets mad at me getting mad at him and breaks up with me.
Next day: I don’t sleep all night and I am stuck wandering Breakhart and then driving aimlessly in my car because my stomach and head hurts and there is nothing else to do when I am upset. As soon as daylight starts shining in, I am hit with a wave of nausea. I run to the bathroom and throw up. A terrifying thought pops into my head. I think I’m pregnant. After thinking through all the past symptoms, I think that I am. I grab a pregnancy test, test, it’s positive. Look at the label, it’s expired in 2009. Hyperventilate. Hyperventilate. Anxiety attack. Cry.
Hours later: I have cornered him into talking. But when I open my mouth an incoherence of words spills out. He says that this was a mistake. I stumble out the words that a pregnancy test was positive. After a lot of quasi petty to extremely serious talks and arguing, he makes me get up and go back to the house. He tells me to wait in the car, he says we’ll take it one step at a time. Finally after much persuasion, I agree. I’ll let him talk to his mother, as long as he promises not to tell her yet, not until he’s certain.
Well I’m parked on a no park zone so I pull up a side street and wait in my car. 20 minutes pass. Something is wrong. I call him. He tells me he is leaving with his mother and her boyfriend to New York and that “it’s okay because [he’ll] be back in a week”. Like that makes everything fucking okay.
His mother tells him to put himself first, which sort of makes sense because she’s his mother. But then the deal where you place your happiness at the very top even if it means trampling on everything else and everyone else around you. Pregnancy? No you fucking swallow your goddamn own problems and you buck the fuck up and deal with the ones we now have to.
I run up to the car, can’t make it, halfway, turn run to the park and throw up. No one even asks if I’m okay or alive or made it across the street in my shaky state. I run back. I don’t know where my car keys are so I stand outside my car crying and having a horrible, horrible anxiety attack. His mother, mother’s boyfriend, and him are literally trying their best to ignore me out of existence. Then I take two steps forward to steady myself. Immediately his mother’s boyfriend comes running at me and asks if I am okay, while I am dripping in tears and hyperventilating. I just give him a look. He asks if they as a collective group should call my family in Canada. It is 11AM, my parents are fucking 11-hour drive away and at work. I walk to the van to talk to my apparently hollow piece of ex-boyfriend. Mother’s boyfriend tries to stop me by physically affronting me. I am too exhausted and scared to punch him aside. He says if I don’t stop, he’ll call the police, and he pulls out his phone and he does. I frantically yell at the hollow shell of my ex-boyfriend where I’m going, what’s happening, why no one is taking me to the hospital. Ex-boyfriend throws his phone at me as if I’m supposed to have all the answers to the goddamn world now. NO actually, this isn’t the rest of the world’s potential baby, it’s YOURS you fucking fuck.
Mother says something to the effect of he needs time to think and it has to be away from you. No. Serious fuck you. You’re the one who is running away. You’re the one who can’t handle dealing with this. And because YOU can’t fucking handle it, you’re hauling your fucking son away so that I am left alone with this problem that by the way, despite however you keep trying to make it seem like, isn’t 100% my fault. Also the scum of the earth looks I keep getting are really not useful in any situation.
You can’t fucking drag your son away from the goddamn responsibilities you have failed to see are his to be responsible over.
Still in the ICU.
Under intensive surveillance because I’m under suicide-watch.
Help."
Of course I'm no longer in the hospital but things have not improved much.
I wish he would cut it the fuck out and stop saying that he loves me.
Or asking me to wait for him to get better and then maybe we can be together again.
Of course the only way for me to even consider being friends with him is for him to completely separate from his mother, which is a disgusting thing and a lot to ask for, but seeing my situation, it is not unreasonable for me to want that.
His mom forbids him to talk to me, or to see me, or to ever have any contact with me in the future for the rest of his life.
And he gets mad at me when I take issue with that or any of his mother's overbearing control (mind you this is coming from a woman who is mentally unstable herself and systematically destroyed her own relationship with his father [they're separated] and is completely unfit to educate anyone on life matters, particularly relationship ones). He says not to treat him like a child, because he is not. Which is incredibly stupid because not only is his mother treating him like a child, he is certainly acting like one.
I don't know how to cope, I don't know how to get better and stronger and I know it takes time but, I'm afraid that it will never be okay again. The situation with Robby still tears me apart and it has been over two years.
I just don't know what to do. I need help.