I’m tired of tryna please some-
One who doesn’t even
Care what’s on my mind
Let me go, I don’t need you to wipe my tears
Don’t you know I’m only tryin’ to disappear?
–Young & Sad by Noah Cyrus
When I got back to the dorm, I was crying. Not for me. I had finally escaped a relationship that had been stifling me. I was crying for him. He sent me a text saying I had broken his heart. That had never been my intention. Afina, my roommate, asked what was wrong and hugged me, but that made me cry harder, because I was still hopelessly in love with her. Emphasis on the hopeless.
I was distraught enough that I posted on Facebook, which was strange for me because I tended to keep everything personal off social media.
“I haven’t slept all night. I kind of gave up trying to fall asleep. My boyfriend and I broke up yesterday. It’s going to take a while to feel alright again.
My brother Hawk came to talk to me and my friend Afina was there with me last night too. I am so grateful to them.
This is one of the hardest things I have ever gone through.”
Even with no sleep and being utterly miserable, my post was masked and vague.
Rudolph and I managed to pull off friendship for a few months. Whenever I was around my friends, he would inform them that I had broken his heart. I found out that one of the members of the gaming group I had started was encouraging him not to take no as an answer and to pursue me indefinitely. My mother suggested I get back together with Rudolph, the good Christian man. She said it wasn’t fair for me to judge him, that I was a schizophrenic and I had issues too.
I said no. In my perspective back then, I thought that I had passed up my one chance at a relationship, my one chance of marriage, my one chance of not being alone. I had thought all I needed was someone who knew I am schizophrenic and loved me anyway. And when I realized the bar was higher than that, I felt overwhelmingly guilty and selfish. It was not like I was pretty or smart or worthwhile. How dare I ask for more than that?
Besides, a partner who is willing to accept a schizophrenic…that’s rare. I was convinced I would never find someone like that again. That I would be single forever. I mourned what could have been. It was not that I wanted that with Rudolph. It was just that, with my mental illness, I felt that this was a path that was barred to me. I hated myself for being a schizophrenic and convinced myself that this would always be a dealbreaker for any potential partner. While all my friends found suitable husbands and got married, I would be the odd one out. So I resigned myself to being single, forever, not because that was what I wanted, but because it was inevitable.
Post 53 in Socially Unacceptable: The Daily Life of a Queer Schizophrenic Wreck (2022)
This is an autobiographical series about my life, something I have wanted to do for a long time. I intend to add new content daily.
For the whole series, follow this link.
The Queer Schizophrenic 