Back once again.

It’s been a while so here’s the run down of the shit storm.
Last year, I started focusing on my mental health a lot more. I went to the doctor and tried several medications, signed up for therapy, finished high school and tried to fucking relax. However, the medications made my depression worse, nearly making me go insane, I swear I was on the brink of killing myself. Had had just one therapy session before my ex broke up with me. It was too much stress for him I guess. He avoided me when I tried to get an explanation and I had to get it from his dad (fucking sad), and that was that. Tried to continue college only to find that I felt empty and alone, still. Even more so. So I shut myself in one of the piano rooms at the college with an art knife. I didn’t know where to go or if I could mentally take anything else. I called the crisis clinic. My music professor stayed with me until they picked me up. There I decided that I wanted to be voluntarily be an inpatient at a psych ward.

I stayed there for a week. Is it weird that I miss that place? Most of the people were inviting. They gave us menus with lots of things to choose from. The rooms felt warmer and safer than anything I had had before then. I found the medication that worked for me. I FINALLY found it. And I also met twenty year old Jacob.

Jacob always seemed nonchalant about the whole thing, like he didn’t care. He would stroll down the hallways with his hand in his pockets, not knowing what to do. We began chatting at one point, after a movie had ended in the group room. I wish I could remember what I thought of him at that point.

We didn’t interact much until the next night when he, another patient, and I were at a table goofing around after check out group. It was the hardest I had laughed in a long time. When the other patient went to the restroom, we exchanged a hug. He said he needed one. I needed one too. After that we became very close. He snuck into my room once because I felt like shit, just to hug me and get me out of bed. Soon he started flirting with me. Don’t ask me why, I only see a potato in the mirror. It finally came down to a couple of days before our discharge (we were admitted the same day), when he came into my room and we had our first kiss and, well, other stuff. I asked him if he still missed her (he had had a bad breakup as well), and he said yes.

We were discharged on October 3 of 2016. I wasn’t able to give him a proper farewell. I gave him my number though. And he actually contacted me. Since then we have been, well, fuck buddies, and I have been going to his house on the weekends, where he lives with his parents. Everything has been wonderful, but I recently ran out of my antidepressants. I feel like shit again. And I have to remind him to take his too.

I really do care for him and I wish he would know that. He believes nobody has ever loved him, but I am more than willing to do that. I already do, in a way. Romantically? Friendly? Maybe just general affection? I don’t know. I just know that love is present when I am with him.

It doesn’t mean that I haven’t missed my ex from time to time. He was a nice partner. Gentle. And he loved me. Maybe that is what I am missing.

I wish there were some way to tell Jacob that he is loved. But now is not the time. Especially when I am going down the rabbit hole of depression once again.