I am sad because someone took advantage of my companionship.

Intimacy, especially sexual intimacy, is a serious matter; I reserve certain acts for no one but a greatly committed partner. I had given a person everything: my body, my secrets, my faithful dedication... with how self-conscious and nervous I am around other humans, that vulnerability is a huge deal. I valued and trusted this person, but apparently he gave up valuing and trusting me as he effectively dropped me from his life (though being sure to fuck me a couple times right before doing so).

Throughout the years, when our friends complained about him and called him a coward behind his back, there was a sole person who defended him, who accurately represented him, who understood and empathized with him, and who maintained his public dignity when he wasn't around to defend himself: Kandromeda. Even today, I find myself defending his actions and asserting how mature he is to other people. What has all this effort earned me? No longer being worthy of his time, even when those who ridicule him in his absence somehow deserve it. His surrender. Betrayal.

Now, I walk in their vicinity feeling ashamed, dirty, and misjudged. The person who once valued and trusted me is now dead; his presence was once comfort, but now it is torture—a reminder of all the mistakes he knows I've made, and that their effects should somehow be permanent.

It's as though a colossal building is collapsing upon me: my nightmare come true.

Therefore, I am sad. I would hesitate to be so loyal and vulnerable to a human again—the secure love, value, and trust that my family and childhood friends provide does little to convince me of other humans' loyalty and dependability. That said, at least being alone can give me the opportunity to rebuild myself. If I could appreciate the years of being alone in high school, I can appreciate that time now.