- Sep 28, 2018
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Hey Ellaraia, if you're reading this stay strong, friend. Its a cliche, but there is a special someone for everyone. You'll find that someone one day. And you have a ton of friends, right here on this website .Two and a half years ago I my first ever flight landed 14 hours after it had exited Manchester. Four days of starvation later I awoke in my hotel room with pure bile vomiting onto the bed beside me. I could feel myself dying and, for the first time in months, I smiled. However, the vomit smelled foul and my hotel room was tiny. I took my feeble, crumbling body out into the dusty, choking air and took a walk through the city.
I stopped at a small cafe and spent some of the £40 I had remaining to purchase a drink to cleanse the disgusting taste in my mouth. The cafe was quiet as most locals were still having their midday nap. Shortly after I sat down, a young woman entered the cafe and sat at a nearby table. I kept looking over at her because she was so beautiful. After a while, she said something to me in Chinese. I used my phone to tell her that I didn't speak any Chinese. She laughed her melting laugh. She proceeded to ask me many questions about why I was there and about my life.
I spent the next 9 days with her. She fed me, hugged me, and slept in my arms. I felt loved for the first time in my life. I hated Chinese food, but I ate every ounce she made, half to not look stupid and half as it was a symbol of her saving me.
It was sad to return home. I had to beg for my job back and I almost forgot to cancel the apology I had set to be sent to my mother a week after my corpse would have missed its flight.
She has a new boyfriend now. She posted about it yesterday and I've cut myself 11 times since. The last thing I want to do right now is make a game about relationships and sex.
In retrospect, she only liked me because she assumed I was rich. She complimented my eyes, my skin, my physique, but they were hollow words hidden behind a translator and a perfect smile. I hate myself for loving her and for ruining the opportunity to die happy. Had those two weeks been my last, I would have died in the most perfect situation possible. I'll never have that opportunity again.
I wrote this a week ago. I wanted to give it the rest of my month off to think about this and not make a rash decision. 11 became 15, 23 and now 32. With each new post she makes, my body cries red a little more. As one scar heals, another replaces it and brings a friend along too. I wish I had a friend. Just one. But no. All I have is a knife.
Thank you to everyone who has supported me over these last 18 months. I am sorry that MyLK was shit. Your support meant so much to me and the only reason I continued for so long was that the only happiness in my life came from reading all of your positive feedback and knowing that there were people in this world who liked something I did enough to pay me for it. I really wanted this to work out.
Thank you.
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