It's Been Four Months

     It's been four months since my ex left me. She sent me a text to tell me, right around Valentine's Day. It was sudden and surprising to me, I thought everything was perfect in our relationship. For three weeks prior to her leaving me I hadn't seen her at all, she was busy with work, going out with some friends, and babysitting for her sister. At least that's what she told me, it was only after she broke up with me that I learned she had been cheating on me for just shy of a month, with two different "friends" of mine. Instead of spending time with me, she decided it was more fun to get drunk and have sex with my friends.

     She left me to date one of them, it was the one she didn't pick that ended up feeling guilty enough to tell me about what she was doing. I've never been more angry and upset in my life. I was so angry with her, so frustrated, I didn't know how to handle it; I still don't. It's been four months and all I feel is an ever deepaning sadness. I never had a lot of friends, just a few close ones, but they decided a good lay with my drunk girlfriend was more important then our friendship. I have a few friends I talk to and vent too, but they can only help so much.

     Nothing I have tried as helped ease the pain. Everyone tells me it will get better with time but it has only gotten worse. One friend who has gone through a tough breakup herself, told me that eventually I'll get use to being alone. That thought scares me to death. Nothing compares to the happyness and joy from living for more then just yourself. She and I lived for each other, I would have done anything for her to make her happy, I still would. She told me and acted like she felt the same. I still believe that the girl I dated is still in her somewhere, buried under all the guilt and lies she's convinced herself of.

     The first week or so after I said so many mean things to her. I knew they were mean, I knew I would feel guilty about saying them, but at the time I didn't care. I barely slept more then two hours a night, I cried myself to sleep eventually after just lying in bed thinking to myself. Yelling at her, calling her a stupid slut, it made me feel better, it was my little revenge to get me through the night. I hated calling her names or being mean to her, but I was so angry at her that I couldn't hold it in, in my mind she deserved it. I told her she was lucky I wasn't a scumbag that would try and publicly humiliate her by any means. I told her she was lucky I would never put the naked pictures she sent me up on Facebook, we met at our job, and thus had a lot of the same friends, it would have been easy to get revenge against her. She had sent me a lot of naked or suggestive pictures, more then she probably knew due to how many were from when she got drunk and wanted to have sex.

     Despite what I told her I wanted more and more to post the pictues, each day was more painful then the last and there was nothing I could do. I didn't have any friends, I had quit my job and hadn't found a new one yet, and wasn't going to school at the time. I sat in my room day in and day out in pain thinkinh about her and how she could do all this to me.  never did post the pictues, I knew I never would, revenge is never the answer. As the days got harder and harder to get through though, I certainly threatened her with posting them. I knew it was wrong then and I knew I would feel bad about it, but I still didn't care. I needed something to make me smile, I was using bully tactics. I knew I wouldn't post them, but I made her fear it and that's just as terrible of a thing to do.

     She actually found a picture of her in her underwear that was posted on some twitter account, one of those random accounts were girls, for some reason, send in nudes to show off what they have. She was mad at me, thinking I had posted it. It actually made me happy because I knew I hadn't, and I knew she sent that in one night when she was drunk. I proved that too her, I sent her the picture she had sent me that night, same underwear, same room, same pose. It was from snapchat and the time was different on mine then on the one she found. I also found our text conversation from that night and sent her screenshots of it. She was beyond drunk, I couldn't even make out what she was saying. This all made me feel happy because I got to show her that she was changing, and doing these things to herself. She had convinced herself that I deseved to be cheated on, but I most certianly did not, no one deserve that, but that's a story for another day. She coundn't admit that she was wrong, she couldn't believe that she sent in that picture and didn't remember doing it. I think she did remember doing it though, I think she just wanted to make me feel bad about telling her I would post those pictues, which I probably deserved. I knew she was desperate when she sent me another picture that she allegadly found on the internet. It wasn't a screen shot of a snapchat or webpage it was just the picture, like it came right from the gallery on her phone. It looked exactly like the copy on my phone. I called her out on it, I told her I know she didn't find it on the internet, she just sent it to me from her phone. She told me that one of the guys she cheated on me with found it, the guy she didn't pick to keep fucking who I will refer to as Guy B from now on. I know he didn't find it, but to call her out more I told her to show me the website he got it from. She didn't even bother responding.

     Anyway my one friend told me writing things down helps her deal with the pain, it's been over two years since she had her heart shattered and she still isn't whole again, which doesn't really speak well for this method of coping. Desperate times call for desperate measures however; and I am certainly desperate for anything to make this better.