{"id":2315,"date":"2016-06-24T18:15:54","date_gmt":"2016-06-24T12:45:54","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/13.201.39.237\/sleeping-depression-relationship\/"},"modified":"2016-06-24T18:15:54","modified_gmt":"2016-06-24T12:45:54","slug":"sleeping-depression-relationship","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.arre.co.in\/?p=2315","title":{"rendered":"I Slept with Depression…"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I<\/span><\/p><\/div>

slept with <\/span>depression<\/span><\/a> and we didn\u2019t use a <\/span>condom<\/span><\/a>.<\/span>\n\nMother is not going to be happy to hear about this. Again. Sigh.<\/span>\n\nIt\u2019s been than more than 24 hours since he left, but I can\u2019t seem to shake the feeling that something is wrong. I mean, I know that he has a habit of coming and going as he pleases, but still. It\u2019s been ten years, exactly ten years. He\u2019s made a habit out of it. <\/span>\n\nAnd why wouldn\u2019t he? I mean, I gave him permission to, right? If only I had opened my mouth a while ago, said something, told him how I was really feeling, maybe he would have understood. <\/span>\n\n

Disgruntled with my own performance, and the fact that I let myself down more than anyone else, I wanted to break something.<\/p><\/blockquote> \n\nBut now it feels like it\u2019s too late. Now it\u2019s four in the morning. The wine bottles are lying open, Frank Sinatra is calling me to New York, and I\u2019m curled up in the corner with my high heels still on, mascara spread across my cheeks, feeling like a hot mess. And not even in the sexy <\/span>Carrie Bradshaw<\/span><\/a> way.<\/span>\n\nThis is all my fault. No, really. It is. And you can\u2019t go telling me otherwise.<\/span>\n\nLet me give you a quick backstory about him and I. Let\u2019s rewind an entire decade. I was a young \u2019un, hitting puberty, still had food stuck in my braces, bushy eyebrows. Mother was still debating whether it would be okay for her to let me get my underarm hair waxed. You know. Typical teenage issues. And I wasn\u2019t the most popular kid on the block. But I got along fine.<\/span>\n\nI remember that fine evening though, when I first saw him. I was out playing good old basketball with the crew. I had my A game on. My team was winning, and I was leading. We tied, and there was a tie breaker. That was it. My moment. It was now or never. Gathering speed, I took control of the ball and headed toward the hoop. The wind and I were one. The hoop was getting closer. I braced myself, pushed my feet off the ground and went in for the shot.<\/span>\n\nI missed.<\/span>\n\nThat was the first time I saw him. Through the disappointment and judgment of each person around me, I saw him standing there. Across the court, further away from everyone. Alone. And quiet. I avoided everyone\u2019s gaze. But I couldn\u2019t avoid his. I had a rage building up inside of me. Disgruntled with my own performance, and the fact that I let myself down more than anyone else, I wanted to break something. And I remember looking into his eyes, and I felt the same rage staring back at me.<\/span>\n\nThat\u2019s when I realised. He was just like me. A sore thumb. A <\/span>loner<\/span><\/a>. A recluse.<\/span>\n\nBut he was a rebel. And I wasn\u2019t. He was a non-conformist. I wasn\u2019t. It was the perfect balance. My fourteen-year-old self recognised that. And that was the beginning of our complex relationship. <\/span>\n\nWe went to the same school, so we started sitting with each other during <\/span>lunch<\/span><\/a>. Most of my friends boycotted me. They felt he was bad for me. They said he would bring out the worst in me. But I didn\u2019t mind. He was my real friend. We never talked much to each other. All our thoughts were understood. It was like telepathy. On most days we would just hang around in my room and stare at the walls. He had a weird way of killing time, but that was fine by me. My <\/span>parents<\/span><\/a> were always at work, so they never really knew that he existed.<\/span>\n\nThe years went by really fast. I finally said goodbye to my braces. Got my eyebrows threaded. Grew tits. Life was great, and he was by my side all along. We entered university and spent most of our time <\/span>drinking<\/span><\/a>. He came with a bonus – I could take him with me to Ladies Night where I got free shots and he\u2019d urge me to keep them coming. I have a liver made of fucking metal, and even then I couldn\u2019t keep up with him. He always wanted more.<\/span>\n\nBut then the age-old, shitty, clich\u00e9d saying hit me right in my face. You know how they say that a boy and a girl can never really be friends? And one of them is bound to get their heart broken?<\/span>\n\nWell, guess who got her heart broken. Yep. That would be me.<\/span>\n\nI guess sleeping with him was the biggest mistake, and also the best decision of my life. I know he\u2019s not in love with me. He\u2019s just using me. I know that. It\u2019s been years since we have graduated from college. We don\u2019t have as many drinking nights anymore. And I know that he has his own life now. He has other girls. Sure, I get that! But that doesn\u2019t mean that I have to stop loving him. What would I be without him? I\u2019ve spent my teenage and adult life with him. I don\u2019t know an existence without him.<\/span>\n\nI know what you\u2019re thinking. I\u2019m that crazy best friend of yours who keeps sleeping with the guy she\u2019s in love with and then cries about it but then repeats the process again. All while he tramples all over her heart. We all have a best friend like this. <\/span>\n\nBut it\u2019s ok. I know deep down he\u2019ll never give up on me even though I\u2019ve been hitting new lows of self- esteem and I\u2019m having glazed donuts and wine for dinner. I\u2019m going to pick up the phone now and crib and cry to my friend about it. All while keeping the button of my jeans open, because my jeans don\u2019t fit my 32-inch waist anymore.<\/span>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Sleeping with depression was the biggest mistake, and also the best decision of my life. I know he\u2019s not in love with me. He\u2019s just using me. I\u2019m that crazy girl who keeps sleeping with the guy she\u2019s in love with and then cries about it but then repeats the process again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":221,"featured_media":2316,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[779],"tags":[4695,1391,559,4696,3148,224,22,408,1051,4697],"class_list":["post-2315","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-health","tag-bad","tag-boy","tag-depression","tag-fuckboys","tag-hookups","tag-love","tag-relationships","tag-sex","tag-tinder","tag-toxic"],"yoast_head":"\nI Slept with Depression...<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Sleeping with depression was the biggest mistake, and also the best decision of my life. 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