What if the life you lead turns out to be a fantasy?
I wake up in the morning, and I realize now that I’ve just thought,’Who am I to be this morning? What do I need to do to please people?’. It’s like I’ve been playing out some sort of caricature of myself depending on the day, the people I’m going to encounter, what I want from these people.
I started each day with a secret, unconscious agenda. Sometimes conscious. For the past few months it was like I had my own fan club, people from work, and we were on a group chat together. It felt amazing, I got such a buzz off of entertaining these people. They loved what I had to say. That’s what I thought anyway. So I said everything that I was thinking! They were free to leave the chat at any point, but they didn’t. They were responding to my thoughts, no matter how random. It was my motivation to get up in the morning, to please these people. 3 guys, me and another lady. I had separate conversations going with 2 of the guys and the lady. Not only did these people want to talk to me in a group, they wanted me all to themselves!
It. Felt. AMAZING!!!
Actions speak louder than words. That’s been my motto for life. Words lie, actions don’t. That’s what I get engrained for growing up with a bipolar mother who has been hospitalised several times. So as amazing as the conversations felt, I needed proof. Solid proof that the guys actually liked me. So I flirted, manipulated, to see how far things could get. With one guy I went back to his hotel room on a night out with work. Just pushing my luck, seeing how far it went. It didn’t, he was too nice. Nothing happened. The other that I was in a private chat with, I sexted him a few times. The first time being the night after the hotel room incident. I was infatuated with this guy, so I’m not sure why I felt the need to try anything with the other. It just seemed right that I try and please all these people in that way. My pulse quickens just thinking about it.
I do not feel like people actually see me as good looking, as a sexual being. Not really, not genuinely. I am a great actress, so convincing I often trick myself into believing things. However every time I walk past a mirror I see another imperfection. On my face, a spot. My God, how big is that gut girl? Odd shaped thighs, funny hips. But with these people admiring me, it made it easier to trick myself into believing I was this gorgeous being, irresistible to all men.
It was so much fun playing this character. Made it easier to lose weight. Gave me something to go to the gym for. I did this for these people, not for me. I struggle to do anything under my own motivation alone, sometimes struggle to even get out of bed, get showered, get dressed. Why should I? Who’s it even for?
But it was almost like they gave me a lust for life again. Even more exciting was the fact I was doing all this stuff without the others knowing. Spinning a web of lies and deceit was equally as thrilling. But i knew I was coming to the end of what I could cope with. The night I fucked the third guy in the chat was the last straw for me, told me I had to sort myself. The fist month I thought it went fine. Then my web collapsed, everyone involved knew everything, and I realise that I’ve just orchestrated a huge mess that I alone am responsible for.
I didn’t even realise that I’d manipulated these people until I was told. “Don’t you see?” Was a question I kept being asked. But I hadn’t, I didn’t see. I refused to accept it as reality. Kept trying to pin the blame on anyone but me. I cried through fear, fear that my mask had slipped and the people I had called friends hated my guts. But through thinking and grounding myself, I’m finally ready to accept that it is my fault, and I need to apologise, and need to accept that these people may walk out of my personal life forever. It’s what I would do if I were them. Turn my back and run.
Wish I could run from this situation now.