Love Is Not Enough (And The Truth Comes Out)

(My first blog, not sure how it works, but here I go!)

"Love Is Not Enough"

So, I dated this guy; for three months. I should have known by the way he, I guess you can say, "asked me out" by demanding that i was now his "Boo Bear" that he was the possessive, protective, somewhat emotionally abusive type, but I figured I would give it a try, see if I could make him change. During that three months, I was the most lonely, most stressed out, most emotional motherfucker I have ever been. He managed to control me, take away my friends and family and make me feel like shit. BUT I kept trying, I kept going. I kept trying to force myself to be happy. At times, he was the best, but he got more and more protective and controlling. No social media, he said. No writing stories anymore, he said. No texting guys, no talking to guys, no hanging out with people, no doing drugs, no being near people that do drugs- including family.
I literally felt like I had no freedom.
But I kept going. I kept trying.
We fought every month, sometimes every week. He was diagnosed with early stages of leukemia and Alzheimer's disease, he was also SEVERELY depressed and had massive suicidal problems. I knew he needed a rock, and I think that's a big reason why I kept trying to make it work. He needed somebody to help him remember, somebody to help his battle wounds heal. As the weeks chugged on I began to realize exactly how unhappy I was, how unhealthy that the relationship was making me. I knew he didn't trust me enough, due to the fact that I made too many promises that I simply just couldn't remember them all. Including not talking to guys, not speeding, not texting people(guys specifically), no social media, and that I would move to Ohio after high school. The rest I can't completely remember, besides no drugs or alcohol, which, I guess I didn't mind much, but now I drink occasionally.
You might be wondering why this is titled, "Love Is Not Enough". Well, like I said before, he didn't exactly trust me completely, because every time I spoke, or said something by speaking my mind, I was breaking another promise- which he would over react about and would turn into a over dramatized fight. He told me that "Love" was not enough to make a relationship work, that you also needed trust, happiness and faith.
It made sense, but I thought that him not trusting me for breaking those silly little promises was kind of stupid, because some of the things he made me promise were ridiculous. At least to me.
But when the end of the third month came around, he was being so dark, so depressed, and it was effecting me. He told me that nothing could make him happy. Which upset me the most. To me, he just said that I MYSELF could not make him happy. The one fucking person that should. I could not be happy with him anymore, I could not talk to anybody about why I was so depressed, I could not do anything. So, I broke up with him.
I still think about him, I wonder how many scars I caused, if he even actually cared as much as he said he did. I wounder if he is still alive, because only the Lord knows how many times within those three months I talked him out of committing suicide. How many 2am phone calls I took, half asleep barely able to form a sentence, and then hanging up and not being able to sleep because of my constant worry of "Is He okay?" "Why isn't He texting back?".
I am sorry I may or may not have hurt him. I say may or may not because I'm not sure. I think he cared, because of the way we talked when the relationship was good, but I don't know.
I have to say though, I miss having that person that was there, that i literally fell asleep on the phone with almost every night, and texted me cute ass messages until I passed out when we weren't sleeping together on the phone. I miss the "Good Morning My Beautiful Boo Bear" text messages, I miss the happy times.

But I'm glad that through all of this, I learned the real friends from the bad ones, and I learned how to speak my mind. I'm glad he made me stronger.