It all started with a character

Waves of the ocean, Abyss of the sea

          It all started with a character. A character of my own creation. It was a humble beginning. Just trying to build onto the character, and make them more like a person than a blank slate. I gave them life. A face. A body. An outfit. Thoughts. A personality. And a voice. I created this character with care. Or at least, as much care as a teenager could. And I loved them.

          But then, someone else made a character. Molded them from nothing but a vague idea based on my own. And built them up as the character interacted with mine. They became a person too, who then fell in love with the one they learned from. I didn't mind. I thought it was cute. My character and theirs. Seemingly complete opposites, yet it felt like they matched.

          We built up their story then. Adding details, taking some away, making different worlds between two characters. We spent hours speaking of fantasy worlds where our characters would meet and fall in love once again. Where they would overcome hardship. Where they would be there for each other. The perfect couple. We were dreaming and we didn't want to wake up.

          We became friends through our characters. They seemed so perfect to me. Funny, and energetic. Caring too. Perfect. But all they ever saw in themselves was imperfection. We spent nights together where they would only ever tell me how wonderful I was, but how ugly they were in comparison. How it drowned them to think about themselves too much. How depressed they were. I didn't quite understand depression back then.

          But I made them happy. I joked with them. Indulged in their ideas and activities. Showered them with affection. I wanted them to feel better. Wanted to help. They were my friend, after all. They deserved more than to count the slashes on their arms and legs every time they looked in the mirror. They deserved more than I could give them. But I gave anyway. And they took just as much. I didn't mind.

          And soon, just as my character, I fell in love with this person who seemed like sunshine, but had long dark shadows to their light. Their happiness brought me warmth, while their sadness took it away. Their feelings influenced mine, but I do not think they paid the same price. Though they confessed to having done so. I was blind regardless.

          Eventually our stories became stagnant. Additions grew few and far between in our conversations. Our conversations staggered to a few times a day, a few times a week, to once a month. They effectively disappeared. And with them, the person I trustingly gave my heart to. I shouldn't have told them my feelings then. Just before they left. It was a mistake.

          As the days passed without so much as a greeting, a sense of betrayal welled up in my hurting heart. The waters of depression lapped at the edges of my brain, irrational but no less cold and suffocating. I struggled between rationality and the chemicals in my head telling me It was okay because I loved them and nothing else mattered.

          After two months, rationality won out. Fire replaced the water in my lungs, in my stomach, and in my head. Feelings of lonely abandonment singed at the edges, becoming hate. I had had enough of feeling sorry for myself. They obviously cared so little if they left without telling me why. And if they did not care, then I shouldn't either. I wish it had been so easy. They came back soon after.

          They talked as if nothing had happened. Talked as if they didn't remember what we told each other before they vanished. As if I were simply their friend and nothing more. Hate seared my chest, as well as a renewed feeling of betrayal. It only hurt worse to know they had also gotten into a relationship during that time away. I had been replaced. Something in my heart cried for it to be a lie. It wasn't. But the fire crackled to embers anyway. I still wanted so badly to at least be close to them. I fell neatly back into the role of friend once more. Even if the ache still lingered. I still loved them, no matter how much I hated that I did.