In 2015 I met someone that I felt was the love of my life. I felt a sense of my father in him.
Kindness, care, protection, and pure love. He soon became my best friend, and I fell in love with him.
I spent two years full of memories, downfalls, adventures and laughter with him. We planned on moving to Washington to start a new life.
Days before we were leaving for Washington, his mother, who lives in Oregon, had been hospitalized for a heart condition.
I had no hesitation to drive to Oregon with him. He was my partner, and I was completely there for him no matter what.
We decided to put Washington on hold and we moved to Oregon, 18 miles into the forest. After some time in the forest, we moved back to Southern California.
In February, my boyfriend went back to Oregon to get the rest of our things. He was supposed to be there a couple days, and a couple of days turned into over a month.
Something happened up there.
He was not mentally ok, and hesitated coming home. He wasn’t sleeping and barely eating. When he came home he was up all night talking about things that didn’t make sense.
He broke up with me suddenly, threw my things in front of the house and was then hospitalized in a state of psychosis, checked himself out of the hospital and had a new girlfriend within a few days of leaving the hospital.
What’s sad is that I feel as though he needed time to heal. We had just broken up and he had just left the hospital.
I felt that maybe by her stepping into the picture it diminished his chance of healing properly.
I didn’t want her there because I was still in love with him or jealous, I was genuinely worried and wanted him to heal, himself.
I loved him with my whole being and always will, no matter what the circumstance he will always be important to me.
We no longer speak, and I am pretty sure he hates my guts, but I will always, always care for him and would still do anything for him.