Agony of a man hidden in darkness

Dear friend,

You once told me I could say anything to you. But lately, it feels like maybe you can’t really listen, or maybe my words have simply become too heavy. Still, I need to say this, not for advice or sympathy, but because I’m carrying too much and I need to set it down somewhere before I reach a breaking point. Altered it a bit, to protect the privacy. This should have been sent a week ago.

No one ever said life was fair, and I’m not suggesting it should be. But sometimes, it feels like it could at least show some mercy.

Right now, I’m not even sure how I feel. I’m not looking for anything from you. I just need to say this honestly. I was born into a broken family. We weren’t so poor, but we were far from stable. Financial struggles were a constant throughout my life. Growing up was hell. I lost my innocence way too early, abused, used as a drug mule by other family members. My mom was depressed, my dad abusive before he left, and by the time I was old enough to understand, we were a mess.

I have five siblings, but growing up in a single-parent household wasn’t easy. Mom was always working, trying to make ends meet, so we were mostly unsupervised. My older siblings didn’t guide me; they were too caught up in their own battles. We rarely ate together, and when we did, it was usually chaos. Waking up to my siblings fighting over the smallest things, getting hit by them just to get me out of bed to do chores, this was my normal. There was no love, no warmth. No one ever told me I was worth anything. I never knew what “home” felt like, and I hated it.

By eight, I had already learned how to cry myself to sleep. Not out of anything specific, just the weight of existing felt like too much. I felt inferior to everyone else. My classmates, my friends, they all seemed so happy. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t.

I had no guidance, but somehow, I did well in school. Even as my life fell apart, I managed to keep up academically. But the fights between my older siblings, the physical violence, the constant drama, it twisted something deep inside me. That dark void, that sense of emptiness, grew bigger every day.

By thirteen, I was already lost. I was a rebel, trying drugs, but quickly realizing I hated it. I found myself on the streets, learning lessons the hard way. I wasn’t looking for trouble; trouble just found me. I had some bad friends, then some good ones. We were all rebels, but we never hurt anyone or steal. I drank to forget, tried to numb the pain, the void inside that never seemed to close.

But then there was Mom. She would vent to me about everything. Her struggles, her worries about us, her alcohol problems. She changed but became sickly. She talked to me like I was her therapist, and I was too young to handle that. I didn’t know how to help her, and I resented her sometimes. But I still loved her. Despite everything, I loved her.

Most of the money Mom made went to my older siblings. I got the hand-me-downs, the scraps. And yet, they told me I was the lucky one. They claimed I didn’t get the discipline they did, that I was spared the worst. Maybe they were right, but it didn’t feel that way. I was ignored, neglected, and blamed for everything. They promised me they’d help with my education, but that was just talk. I tried to make something of myself, but when financial trouble hit, I had to drop out. No one helped. My siblings didn’t care.

I became a nomad, drifting from place to place, living in chaos. At one point, I just gave up. I thought about dying, convinced I’d never have a family of my own. The dark void opened wide again, and this time, it seemed like it might swallow me whole. But I kept going. Then I met her. A woman who didn’t judge me. She loved me even though I had nothing. I tried to care for her the best I could, but I was too damaged. I wasn’t ready for love, not after everything.

We lived together for years. She got sick, and I worked hard to take care of her. I found a decent job, even got promoted. But as she got better, she changed. The cracks in our relationship deepened, and soon I noticed a pattern: she was sabotaging everything between us. I thought we could make it work, but she decided to work abroad. I didn’t want her to go, but she convinced me it was for our future. I borrowed money to send her off. But after she left, everything changed. She became distant, cold. Then I found out she was cheating. She only came back to tell me about it, get some of her personal things she left, and detail everything, even the intimate moments she shared with someone else. How much she loved the man more than me. My soul shattered. I was destroyed. The void inside me grew, and I turned back to substances to escape the pain.

I worked through it all, built a life, even got my own house. I got in touch with my siblings again, but the scars ran deep. We had some misunderstanding, then they turned on me. My brother spread lies about me, and my sister chose a friend over me. I decided I was done. I couldn’t trust them anymore.

But I kept going. I visited my mom, listened to her vent about everything. She still had no one else to lean on. I carried her burdens, even when it was too much. After a while, I met another woman. She was kind, beautiful, and pushy, and I fell in love with her too. But again, I was too broken. She was hiding a secret. She had a lover and was just away for work. Once I found out, it broke me. She chose him over me, and I spiraled again. We only lasted several months. I tried to end it all, drunk and asleep in a room full of burning coals and wood, but something stopped me. Maybe it was divine intervention. I woke up, and something changed. I decided to stay alive, even if I didn’t know why.

Years passed. I kept to myself, did what I could to survive. I tried to heal, traveled, focused on hobbies. But the emptiness never left, and I never found my purpose. I got lost in old habits, hated myself, blamed myself for everything. Then I met you.

I first saw you in a meeting. Your eyes, your smile, your voice, it all made my heart beat faster. You were everything, my sunshine, but I couldn’t bring myself to make a move. I was too afraid, too damaged. You were too good for someone like me.

I planned to resign until you messaged me. You just asked something about work, but I did not want it to end there. For some reason, the first message I sent connected, and you responded with the same energy. We became friends, and though I knew you didn’t feel the same, I was grateful for the connection. I also found out you had a boyfriend, probably someone better than me. I just couldn’t see how you could ever want me. It was fine, and I did not chat you outside work.

We shared a lot, I think. Our tastes, our views, our habits. You helped me more than you realized. For the first time in years, I started to care about myself again. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship, so I kept it at that. I wasn’t sure if you were just being polite or if you really cared, but for once, I was happy with what we had.

But then something happened. I found out something that crushed me, and I fell back into old habits. I was self-destructive, using everything to numb the pain. I tried to distance myself from you. You noticed after months, asked if I was okay, but I pushed you away. I didn’t want to bother you.

The void inside me opened up again. And this time, I resigned. I quit my job, left everything behind. I messaged you one last time to thank you for being a friend. I didn’t wait for a response.

I left the office that day, four months ago, drove away, and haven’t gone home since. People can call me a sad boy or a junkie, but I’m just someone trying to survive the pain. I don’t know if I’ll make it this time, but if I do, I hope I cross paths with you again.

I never really prayed, but I pray for my mom, for her happiness, and for you, my sunshine. I hope both of you are protected.

I never wanted to be rich. I just wanted a family, a real family, full of love and warmth. If I had that, maybe I would have been a better man.

Did I matter to you? Or am I just a shadow in your life?

Sincerely,