remnants

Mod Kanik here. I'd prefer to be called K. I do not go by this in real life, but if this post is ever found by its other owner, I do not want them to know my name.

WARNING. THIS POST DISCUSSES A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN A MINOR AND AN ADULT.

This blog was never all that active. The story Eni and I were writing was a wonderful escape from our horrid realities and was made better our writing together. I do not consider this blog a big part of my life, obviously. We never had any followers, we never put that much effort into it, but I do consider it a big deal. This blog is all I have left of Enigma. That is not a good thing. I think if I post this it'll give me the closure I need.

When bread-gobgob was created, I was - based on the dates of the posts - fifteen years old. For nearly three years, I had been chronically online and had developed a terrible bout of agoraphobia. This was the result of many things that I won't list, but most of all it was the result of a very long co-dependent relationship.

Usually, I really wouldn't find this relationship to be that big of a deal. Recently, I have been diagnosed with traits of BPD, I tend to be dependent on people. I tend to have unhealthy traits. I'm trying to get better at not doing that. However, the relationship I had with Enigma was an incredibly big deal. In fact, it was a huge deal. I was fifteen. Enigma was twenty.

I cannot keep my composure while talking about this, I apologise for that, but I'm not aiming to keep my composure here and act mature. I'm aiming to tell my story, because Enigma was an inherently fucked up person and I need to vent. I need to talk to someone about this. I need them to come back and see this at some point and understand what they did to me.

To tell the truth, their age never stood out to me.

I lost contact with Enigma right before my sixteenth birthday. I believe it was the eleventh, maybe twelfth of July? We had stopped talking long before that. I will give credit where credit is due, it is Enigma's sysmates that initiated the loss of contact. Engima was removed from their position as host and the system, from what I know, decided it would be best to ghost as they did not know any other way to tell me they didn't want me in their life anymore.

I thank them for that.

Since losing contact with them, I've made friends. I moved schools (I went to college) and made friends who weren't held hostage by their phone their whole teenhood, and I have spoken to these people about Enigma. I have spoken with my therapist about Enigma. I had long, long talks with my ex-girlfriend about Enigma.

All three parties had only one thing to say about it all. That being, that I was groomed.

My relationship with Engima was a struggle, but I want to be clear: our dynamic was only romantic for around nine months out of the three and a bit years we knew each other. I want to be even clearer: it was NEVER sexual. Not once. But it was unhealthy. PAINFULLY unhealthy.

I'm shaking as I write this so I apologise if this doesn't make sense. When I knew Enigma, they also had an extreme case of agoraphobia. I do not think they ever did what they did out of genuine ill-intent, I think this was just their very fucked up way of showing they cared. But that doesn't matter, because it was still manipulation.

I missed out on a lot of my teenage years - when I first got into a relationship with Engima (April 2019), I was twelve, turning thirteen and they were seventeen, turning eighteen. When I told them my age - a few days after my thirteenth birthday - we stayed together for another five months. They broke up with me on Jan 1st, 2020 because they were uncomfortable with my age. This was over Skype. They said that, in future, they'd be happy to get back together if the opportunity came about. They said that they would prefer to wait for us to both be adults before meeting. I agreed to this and we went on as best friends. But in spite of this breakup, we only grew closer.

When I say I missed out on a lot of my teenhood, I mean I never got to experience the big things. I never went to parties, I never smoked weed, I never got drunk, I never kissed anyone, I never went out with my school friends, I never went outside.

I'm sure a lot of people go without these oppurtunities. Most of my friends didn't smoke weed or drink simply because they never got the chance. I'm not salty that I never got to try substances or mess around with a stranger at a party. That's not what I'm saying. I did get the chance to try those things. I got invited to parties and I got asked to come sesh with people and I got asked to go to town and window-shop with my buddies. I declined everything I got asked to. I declined because when I told Enigma about my weekend plans, they would freak out.

Freak out at me and at themself. The idea of me going outside, to this person, was like a threat. I would say "[name] and I are going skating tomorrow!" and Engima would have the panic attack of their LIFE. That, or they would ignore me for multiple hours. Enigma didn't like the idea of me going outside. It got to the point that I cancelled plans out of fear that they would off themself if I stepped outside. The fear came from the idea that if I was busy, I wouldn't answer. If I didn't answer, they would panic. If they panicked, they would hurt themself.

And it was like this until my last year of high school. I live in Australia, we don't have middle school. We got straight from primary school to high school, and then we head to college when we hit seventeen. There were five months of my four years of high school where I didn't have this person on my back, telling me I couldn't do this or that because they NEEDED me.

Enigma and I's last messages to each other were late last year after my leaver's dinner. I sent them photos of my dress and new hair and all that, and said I was living my life now. They sent me a message back and we exchanged words about how these days, it was so much easier to go outside and do things because we weren't nervous that we were gonna miss a message about something bad.

I know that throughout my relationship with Enigma, I was very panicky and very dependent. In their last message, they made it sound like I had done the exact same thing to them? I argue that they were eighteen-twenty-one and I was thirteen-sixteen. Fuck that. You were an adult and I was a child. You claimed to be so much more mature than me and claimed to know what was best for us, so I raise you the fact that you were an adult. A UNIVERSITY STUDENT. And though you broke up with me, you stayed in contact, even though I was FIVE YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU AND TO THIS DAY STILL AM A MINOR and made me think that if I left you, an adult, alone for more than an hour, YOU WERE GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF.

FUCK YOU HORRIFIC SENSE OF MORALS AND YOUR FUCKING "oh but we were so close and I was so attached and-" FUCK THAT. You were an ADULT. You should have blocked me BACK IN 2019. I DIDN'T NEED CLOSURE. I NEEDED TO BE TALKING TO ANYONE, ANYONE MY AGE. You shouldn't have needed me. I was not capable of fixing you.

You don't realise it, but the effects you had on me were insane. I take melatonin now because YOU used to get mad at me for falling asleep. I hallucinate your voice when I have panic attacks, I dream of you and I sitting alone in a void when it's been a long day. I panic when I don't have my phone on me. Recently I lost it, left it with a friend who then got on a bus with it, and the panic attack I had was HORRENDOUS. I thought I was going to get a message from you, August this year, and miss it and completely fuck everything up.

I have cried over you tirelessly, I have written stories upon notes upon letters to and about you. You have thoroughly ingrained yourself into my head and you just. won't. get. out.

I am working towards getting over it. Leaving my phone at home while going on walks, not bringing chargers to school, putting my phone on do not disturb, completely deleting discord and skype from my computer AND phone. But I don't think I'll ever really escape it. Not before I get out of school anyway.

I will not speak on my relationships with the others, as I respect them far too much for taking action when realizing that what was happening was unhealthy. There is one other alter, however, that I am willing to talk about. Not because of anything bad. Simply because I need to come clean.

K. You know who you are. I don't care if you read this or not, it feels wrong to say it all, but I can't keep myself from saying it. You'll probably never see this, but I think telling you will help in some way toward my healing. Here goes.

So far as I know, I'm aromantic. Romance repulsed. But occasionally, you cross my mind, and I remember how desperately in love with you I was when we knew one another. Enigma always said, "you fixed him!" I think that was very poor wording. I didn't fix you, K. You fixed yourself. All it took was some form of kindness, and you learned to open up. Slowly. I'm so proud of you for that. I don't think I'll ever love anyone as much as I love(d?) you, K.

I sound ridiculous at this point, but you'll never read this, so fuck it. Talking with a very nerdy friend of mine recently, I realised why you got so odd when I promised to braid your hair one day. I don't take it back. If it weren't for how things went, if it were a different time, different circumstance, I would marry you. In a heartbeat, I would let you braid my hair and I would braid yours. I hate to admit it, because I hold so so much resentment in my hands and jaw, but I absolutely would. You were so so special to me and I don't think I could ever be mad at you for what happened. You are the brightest bit of the spots of light in the darkness of my teen years.

I send my respect to JF, who always made me laugh. To PB who always held wonderful conversation. To B, TMM, and THM who made me feel powerful and respected.

Thank you to those in the system who provided me comfort during a very scary time. We should not have known each other in the first place and, to be honest, I don't remember most of you. But you were there and you were not my abuser and I recall snippets of joy from some of you. Thank you. I'm sorry it turned out like this.

Thought about you at my work.

Thought about you miraculously happening to know someone I do.

Had a panic attack.

Sitting in the bathroom at work panicking.

Why did you keep me around for so long? Why were you so normal about our interactions? Why did you treat me like an adult? Why didn't you tell ever tell me no? What happened to all those things you bought me, and why did you never send them? Where are you now? Why did you have so much time, all the time? What finally made you leave me? Will I ever get an answer?

Why is it always just when I start thinking I've healed and finished completely with you that you pop back up?

Even without you I am still haunted. It's been years. You might not even be alive anymore.

I am doing everything in my power to push away the soft thoughts. To stop hoping you got away from your mother. To stop hoping your brother achieved his dream of teaching. To stop hoping you found some sense of normalcy in your day to day.

I can't. If I do then I'm not holding you accountable or respecting myself or listening to the people telling me you were bad. But it's so hard when you were the one thing that made my teen years okay.

I'm writing two new books and I think the harshness of the scene I wrote in one of them last night is what brought you up. It is my outlet.

The child in me is begging you to return. It wants to open that cafe and introduce you to my friends and come find you with all the money I've saved. To apologise for all the anger and the mistreatment I gave you.

The adult knows that our separation is something you needed more than me. The adult in me knows that looking for you is stupid. The adult in me is angry you didn't cut me off the second you found out my age, rather than continuing our romantic relationship for another five months.

Honestly, I don't know what you are anymore. A pillar? A shadow?

I want to talk to you again so I can get some form of closure that you were who you said you were and not just some random online, faking things so you could get closer to a child. I know you weren't that - you never, ever asked anything sexual of me. But I barely knew you.

I find myself missing you more and more as I deal with my grief. I want to know why you cut me off so suddenly - the toxicity was enough for four years, so why did you so suddenly change your mind? Was it that I made friends? That I got too old for you? What did I do that led to you deciding I wasn't good enough anymore?

And why did you have to ghost me?

I recently read a book called 'things have gotten worse since we last spoke'. It's lame. I don't like it. I'm a real snob about my books these days, as writing is my calling and I can't stand underdeveloped stories - if you don't care about your book, don't write it.

The book is about two women who form a relationship online and start a BDSM dynamic. They very quickly fall into a toxic dynamic and it's only when one of the characters nearly dies that the other decides to leave. Cold turkey. No contact.

Was that why you left? Were you in danger? You promise the only thing that could keep you from me was the worst parts of myself. I know we were growing apart, but you were my everything when I was young and now you're gone.

It's especially bad today. I'm not sure why. I sat down to finish the (possibly) last chapter of my book (thirty three chapters strong) and suddenly realised that there's an incredibly high chance there's a version of me somewhere in your system. I started musing on that alter's purpose and realised it was my job (when we knew each other) to rehabilitate cruel or unkind alters.

Do you even feel any guilt? or is it all just a shitty relationship you were in when you were 20? Do you feel bad at all? Do you even acknowledge what you did wrong? I was a child. You were an adult. I know you knew better, because I'm your age now and I KNOW if I met a 13 year old online I'd block them immediately. I understand you had no support systems, but I barely have one either. I still wouldn't. There's no way in hell I'd ever let that happen.

Do you acknowledge what you did? That's all I want to know - do you know just how fucked up it was, or do you blame me too?

Of course I wasn't a good person, I was fourteen. I was fifteen. I was sixteen. I had no life experience and when I was literally ASSAULTED I couldn't come to you, my only friend, about it - BECAUSE I WAS SCARED YOU WOULD HAVE FUCKING KILLED YOURSELF.

I don't know if it would make things better. But oh god, an apology would make me feel so much better. Accountability and a "I shouldn't have done that to you" would fix so many of my problems.

I'm in a good place now and I hope you're well, E. I hope you're all well. I also hope you never see this, because Im certain neither of us ever want to hear of the other again.

I know me now. I do not know you anymore. You do not know me anymore. I hope you know yourself now. I can't express how prideful I am in myself for letting myself hurt less. For letting you go. For not becoming like you.

You can hurt for all eternity, it won't change what happened. I can breathe now. It took two years, but I built myself new lungs. Ones that don't need your air in order to work.

In a way, to love is to fear. I love all the people in my life - I love my mama's teachings, I love my best friend's overpronunciation of her i's, I love that my brother will never know about my first love. He'll never know that I spent days, bedridden, sick from how plagued I was. To love is to lower one's guard and let another in, but in my experience it's more forceful than that - just as Hades sensed her above ground, did Persephone hear the chains before she saw them? Did Aphrodite choose to invent it this way or did Ares just so happen to ruin her day the day she decided who I would ache for the day I turned 13?

For all I know, when Oblivion talks about me, they talk about how dependent I was. How terrified they were that I would do something. How hard it was to live codependent. They might not even be saying such things, but the thought makes my blood boil.

I was 13. I was fresh out of an abusive/neglectful household and I was willing to attach myself to anyone who would look at me. You took advantage of that. I didn't start this, you're the one who got mad when I fell asleep. You're the one who told me you'd die without me. You're the one who said you wouldn't abandon me even if I were to kill someone.

You told me you'd review every last one of my sins and you'd judge them, because if God wanted to smite me then God was wrong. Who is God in the face of your wife? No, what is morality in comparison to the first person in your life who tells you you're special?

I swear, had you asked me to, I would have offed someone. The worst part is, I'm not even exaggerating. You were my judge and jury, my ball and chain, my will to continue on. You said jump, I said how high.

You can block me all you want, filfth. You can not, however, outrun my stolen childhood and nights spent awake out of fear that you would kill yourself and it would be all my fault for not being there to stop you. I hope it weighs on you. I hope it kills you to know how much I hate you.

I hope you burn in hell, and I hope that when I get there too, they put us right next to each other so I can burn with you. Because the magma is colder than my rage. The pitchforks are blunter than my glare. The demons are nicer than the words I will have for you.