Amor Quod Poenitet
I don’t know why I’m here. Or maybe I do. I’m upset, and I shouldn’t be, so I have to write all of this away from the eyes of the people who can’t know I’m aggravated. Yet again, I was hoodwinked and blind to what was in front of me because I thought someone was cute. More than anything, he was convenient. I don’t like relationships, nor was I looking for one, especially with a 15-year-old boy that lives in the south. Considering how adamantly he tried to get me to date him, I eventually caved. "Why not? What’s the harm?" So I said yes, and he was sweet and it was so easy for me to think I made the right decision. Long story short, the relationship was more than one sided as it progressed and it just ended up with me crying more than me smiling. He cut it off, which I was glad for, because I just didn’t care. It was nice to say I had a boyfriend, for PR, I guess, even if it was just like having the ghost of one there. After he cut it off, I tried to be friends. I always try to be friends if we didn’t part terribly, and I regretted that, too. He had a history of racial slurs which I tolerated because I was simply numb to it, due to “meme culture” I suppose. He crossed a line when he commented the “n” word with a hard r under a post my blood mother and family could see. He didn’t understand that I didn’t want someone calling me a n*gger in front of my mother, or, at this point, at all. We argued briefly, but in the long run I dropped an ultimatum that he (for some reason) agreed to. Like he ever cared about being on good terms with me.