The Lie I Built Around Love

Everything started when I was young. Oliver was my best friend and my crush. He had dark skin, spiky hair, and the most beautiful face. I was smitten by him in every way possible. I always thought he didn't love me back. He was a straight guy, after all. But I had hopes.

Our friend group used to be big, but over time, it dwindled until only Oliver, Carly, Fred, and I remained. I'd walk to school with them basically every cold morning, and we'd have a blast. Until the pandemic hit, I couldn't handle my love for him anymore. So I confessed.

The Confession

I was going through a bad time regarding my mental health. This isn't a way to excuse my actions there was no one to blame for what happened but me but it is a way to explain them. I sent him a message. I complimented his beauty, his personality and talked about how much I'd loved him since we were little. I told him that it didn't matter if he liked me back or not. I needed to get that off my chest. He said, "No, it's fine, we can still be friends... but I don't feel the same way. I like girls. I have no problem with you being gay, it's just that I'm not."

My heart was broken, but I at least had some closure. We continued walking to school every day after the pandemic ended, like before. Sometimes I'd even go alone with him, and we'd sit together in class.

The Disappearance

Then, one day, he wasn't there anymore. I overheard my classmates saying that he got in trouble with his dad and got sent away to a different school far from our small rural town. I moved on. My world ended, but I moved on.

A year passed, and I was in my room when he crossed my mind. "Where is he today?" I wondered. So I created a fake Instagram account. I knew it'd be suspicious for a one-day-old account to follow him, so I followed a few celebrities, a few singers that he liked, and a few random accounts that were completely unrelated to each other. I waited for a few weeks. Then I woke up on a Monday and immediately went to follow him. His account was private, so I couldn't directly follow him, but I sent a request. He took an entire day to see it and then approved my follow request.

The Catfish

I liked his most recent post, a photo of him, and logged off. The next few days were spent liking any new posts of his and sometimes going back on his account and commenting on a random old post. He wouldn't acknowledge my comments. He didn't know me at all, so it was fine.

Another month passed. He had posted a story in which he was in front of his mirror. You could see a bit of his stomach. I don't know what got to me, but I sent him a DM. I introduced myself as Samantha. We had a conversation about his shirt, and long story short, that ended up turning into an everyday thing.

We started sending each other pictures intimate ones, casual ones, any type. I'd take pictures of women from the internet and edit them to make them look like the same person. I'd never show the face, so it was difficult to tell that they weren't. One day, he asked if I was down to video chat. I said that I wasn't comfortable with that, but I'd love to voice chat. My voice is rather feminine, and I can make it even more feminine because I have a background in acting. I paired that with a voice changer, and we started having voice chats a few times a week.

Then the worst thing happened. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes. We started talking more frequently, sharing our lives and traumas with each other. I made up a whole background for Samantha. I started to think like her in real life too. I knew that it couldn't go any longer. At some point, he'd wanna meet up. And what would I do then?

The Escape

He sent me a goodnight text one night. I didn't reply that night. I spent the whole night awake, feeling guilty about all those months that I'd spent tricking him. But I felt most guilty about the fact that I wished I could keep that lie alive.

The next day, I woke up to hundreds of texts from him. I didn't open Instagram, but I saw the first few texts he sent me: "Are you okay?", "Sam, are you there?", "Text me when you wake up." I already wanted to end things, so I thought, "Why not ghost him now?"

I went to the kitchen to make breakfast and saw my mom sitting at the table reading her newspaper. My jaw dropped. I swear I almost pissed myself. Somehow, the stars aligned in the most fucked way possible. A girl named Samantha had died in a car crash that night in the exact city where I mentioned I was from to him.

As you can guess, he thought I was dead. Or at least that Samantha was. He didn't know what she looked like, only certain parts of her body so it was plausible he would believe that was the same Samantha he was talking to. I deleted Instagram to log off of Samantha's account, and since then it has stayed that way.

The Reappearance

I was mortified for months after that fact. But all of this wasn't the worst part. Somehow, I managed to be an even worse person.

If I recall correctly, eight months passed between Samantha's death and the first time I saw him again in person in years. I started going to therapy. I never told my therapist about all of this only bits and pieces without broader context. I was ashamed, but I didn't want to hold myself accountable. I still don't want to. But I guess I have to.

Then, one day, I was in a session with her. When it ended, I walked out of her therapy room and saw him in the waiting room, sitting there. My instincts kind of kicked in, and I started small talk with him. I was uncomfortably anxious. We talked for a bit. He updated me on his life and told me about his girlfriend who had died. He told me how he couldn't go to the funeral because her family didn't want someone that they didn't know there, and how he'd been dealing with depression ever since.

I told him my number was the same since we last talked, so if he still had my contact, he could just reach out to talk and vent, if he wanted to.

The Relationship

I don't know why I did that. But what I do know is that we started talking, and he opened up to me. I guess we ended up trauma bonding? Or at least he trauma bonded with me.

We started hanging out, playing video games, getting lunch together. One day, and I remember it well, it was March, he told me he wanted to explore his sexuality a bit more because he thought that he might be into guys as well. We were hanging out when that happened, face to face to each other. So obviously, we kissed. We slept together that night, and he told me that he definitely was into guys in the morning.

Yes, we started dating. His mental health has been progressively getting better. His therapist told him that I was a nice addition to his life, though he shouldn't rely on me for emotional support. Instead, he should learn how to be his own safe space.

The Weight of the Lie

And that's where I'm at right now. The only reason he's with me nowadays is because I catfished and traumatized him, and now he sees me as an anchor. I know that telling him all of this will end things. It might as well end both of our lives.

I don't want to sit here and say that I don't know what to do, because I do. But I don't want to do it. I hate that I'm being so selfish. I don't want everyone to think of me as a psychopath, and I don't want him to lose someone important again.

A Gentle Reality Check

You are carrying an impossible weight. You are not a psychopath. You are someone who made a series of terrible choices, driven by love, loneliness, and a desperate need for connection. That doesn't excuse what you did, but it does explain it.

You built a lie because you were afraid of losing him. You kept it going because you couldn't bear to let go. And now, you're trapped in a relationship that exists on a foundation of deception. The person he loves is not entirely real. The person he's healing with is built on a lie.

What You Need to Hear

You already know what you have to do. You said it yourself: you know, but you don't want to do it. The truth is, he deserves to know. He deserves to make his own choices based on reality, not a fantasy. And you deserve to be loved for who you really are not for a version of yourself that you created.

Telling him will be devastating. It might end everything. But keeping this secret is slowly destroying you, and it's keeping him in a relationship that isn't fully real. That's not fair to either of you.

I don't know if you'll ever tell him. I don't know if you can. But I know that you can't keep carrying this alone. You need to talk to someone a therapist, a trusted friend, someone who can help you navigate this without judgment.

You made a mistake. A huge one. But you are not beyond redemption. You are not beyond forgiveness. And you are not beyond love, real love, built on truth.