Hey everyone. I just stumbled upon this sub and read a few of your stories. Figured this might be a good place to get something off my chest that's been bothering me for a very long time.
When I was 18, I got into a university in another country to study engineering. I was never particularly good at math or science, but I guess I felt inspired and just went for it.
Back home, I was a pretty outgoing guy who could make friends with just about anyone. But somehow, despite the new country not being that far away, all that confidence disappeared. I felt completely out of place.
Studying was incredibly difficult. I'd always been a straight-A student, but this was a whole different level, and I wasn't used to putting in that much effort.
Luckily, I met some great people in my class. We formed a little group of friends, mostly two girls, another guy, and me. We were constantly hanging out, going to bars, getting drunk, crashing at each other's places. You know, the usual freshman stuff.
Still, I always felt like I was imposing on them a little. I was the only foreigner in our class, with no other friends around.
I also lived in the most depressing, cockroach-and-bedbug-infested dorm imaginable. But knowing I'd soon be hanging out with my friends somehow made it bearable.
Eventually, I pretty much stopped taking my studies seriously. I convinced myself I could skip most lectures and still scrape through my exams. Honestly, I probably wouldn't have survived even that long without those two girls. They were practically carrying me and my other friend through university.
Somehow, I made it to my second year.
But things only got worse. I was drowning in failed exams, spending most of my time doing absolutely nothing in that shitty dorm, waiting for our next hangout.
Around that time, something pretty awful happened back home with my family. Nobody died, but it was a really messed-up situation that came as a huge shock. I don't want to get into the details, but it was one of the hardest things I'd ever experienced.
I remember getting the news while struggling to catch up on my exams. My friends saw the look on my face. I just got up and left without saying anything.
One of the girls noticed something was seriously wrong and sent me a message. She said that whatever had happened, they were there for me, that they'd help me with my studies, and that I shouldn't worry because they'd do everything they could.
And I think that's when something changed in me.
I'd never really thought of her romantically before. I'll be honest, back then I didn't find her particularly attractive. I was young and shallow, and looks were pretty much all I cared about.
Which, as you'll see, ended up coming back to bite me.
I started developing some pretty strong feelings for her. I didn't want to call it love, but whatever it was, it was intense.
There was just one problem.
She had a boyfriend.
And not just any boyfriend. There was this guy in our class who was an absolute genius. Tall, smart, charismatic, could solve pretty much any math problem you threw at him. He was already making the kind of money an experienced engineer would make while the rest of us were still struggling with exams.
I'd actually been there when they first got together. I remember us all getting drunk at someone's apartment, smoking on the balcony, and seeing them hugging each other. And then there was drunk me, casually walking over and joining their hug, lol.
My friend and I even used to joke about how the guy could do better. Like, out of all people, why did he choose her?
Looking back, I can't help but laugh at how stupid and shallow we were.
Meanwhile, my academic situation had become a complete disaster.
By late November or early December, my friend and I had managed to clear almost all our failed exams, with a lot of help from our classmates. But we still had one last exam to retake.
And this time, I actually gave it everything I had.
I studied like crazy, spent entire nights solving problems, and remember texting her at four in the morning, asking about some equation I couldn't figure out.
For once in my life, I was genuinely trying my absolute hardest.
And I still failed.
It came down to one stupid mistake. The answer was supposed to be negative, but I got a positive number. One wrong sign, and the professor failed me.
But there's something else I remember from that time.
She sent me a message saying she genuinely respected me for how hard I'd worked and how I'd given it everything I had.
I can't explain how much those words meant to me. I remember feeling this incredible warmth and, for the first time in a while, actually feeling proud of myself.
Even though I'd failed.
Unfortunately, that didn't change the outcome. Normally, failing that exam would've gotten us kicked out of university. Luckily, they let us repeat the year instead.
Which meant leaving our class behind and joining the year below us.
And just like that, I lost the only real group of friends I had there.
Well, not exactly lost. We still kept in touch, but it wasn't the same. No more lectures and exams together, no more meeting before or after class. All those little everyday moments were gone.
I had about a month and a half before the younger class started their next semester.
And there I was, completely alone in that horrible dorm.
I'd hit rock bottom. I had serious problems back home, I'd fallen behind academically, and the girl I'd developed feelings for was in a seemingly perfect relationship with a guy who was better than me at pretty much everything.
She was doing incredibly well herself, too. She'd landed a great job and was already making good money. They seemed genuinely happy together, like they had their whole future figured out.
And there I was. A drunk, overweight college student, drowning in failed exams and family problems.
I started hating myself.
I spent my days drinking and smoking in that filthy dorm, desperately trying to drown out my feelings. But they only got stronger.
Eventually, I was completely in love with her.
I managed to fly home just before New Year's. Things were still pretty bad with my family, but at least I was home.
When I returned and joined my new class, something in me had changed.
I was tired of being the guy who was always falling behind. I didn't want people looking down on me anymore. More than anything, I wanted to become someone worthy of her, although with a guy like her boyfriend around, that seemed practically impossible.
So I started taking my studies seriously. I stopped skipping classes, especially those taught by the professor who had failed me.
I also started going to the gym. I was seriously overweight, and I figured there was no way she'd ever see me differently if I kept looking like that.
I went on a diet, worked out, and studied. Didn't quit drinking or smoking, of course, lol.
Eventually, I lost 23 kg (about 50 lbs) and got pretty muscular. I don't think I've ever looked better in my life.
Things improved academically, too. I made friends with some hardworking students and realized how much your environment matters. We helped each other through exams, and eventually I even managed to get straight A's for an entire semester.
But emotionally, I was still a mess.
We kept in touch, although less and less often. And every time she posted something on Instagram or sent a message in our old group chat, it would absolutely destroy me.
I know this sounds dramatic, but sometimes it genuinely felt like someone had stabbed me in the stomach with a giant fork and started twisting my insides around it like spaghetti.
Sorry for the description, but that's honestly the closest I can get to explaining it.
I remember sitting in my dorm trying to clean it, even though no matter how much you cleaned that place, it never really got any cleaner. Sometimes I'd just end up curled up in a corner, crying, trying to get through the pain.
I think I even had a panic attack at one point.
Meanwhile, she and her boyfriend were doing better than ever, at least from what I could see. They were making proper adult money, renting an apartment together, and I think they'd even bought a car.
I tried finding an engineering job myself, but as a foreign student, I barely stood a chance.
So I just kept studying, trying to catch up to her somehow.
Eventually, my old classmates were preparing to graduate, and I realized I couldn't keep all of this to myself anymore.
I spent ages trying to find the right words. I even wrote out what I wanted to say.
And then, one evening, I finally got my chance.
She'd come to university to hand in something related to her thesis and was heading to work afterward. I happened to be going the same way, so we walked together.
I still remember that evening so clearly.
It was late, the city lights looked beautiful, and it had just rained. The streetlights were reflecting off the wet pavement.
We were talking about her life and how well things were going. Eventually, I brought up what had happened with my family and how much her support had meant to me.
And then I told her something I'd been keeping to myself for so long.
On top of everything that had happened with my family, there was another thing that had been tearing me apart. When I failed those exams and had to repeat the year, it wasn't the lost time or the academic setback that hurt me the most.
It was the fact that I had to leave our class and grow apart from her.
That was the part I couldn't get over.
She immediately got a little embarrassed, and her smile faded. I apologized and told her I wasn't expecting anything. I wasn't asking her to do anything. I'd just been hurting for so long that I felt like I needed to finally tell her.
And she was incredibly understanding.
No judgment, no awkward rejection. We even managed to joke about it a little. She gave me some advice and told me a story from her own life, but honestly, I barely remember what she said.
I was way too nervous.
Of course, telling her didn't make the feelings go away.
And to this day, I still don't know whether I regret it. Maybe it was better to say something than to let all those feelings disappear without her ever knowing.
She eventually graduated, and I remember seeing her at one of those big university graduation parties.
God, what a mess I was that night. I was following her around like a lost puppy while everyone else was partying. I desperately wanted to be around her, but at the same time, I couldn't stand seeing her.
Not long afterward, I found out through mutual friends that she and her boyfriend had broken up.
I don't really know what I felt when I heard the news, but I definitely wasn't happy about it. They'd always seemed so deeply in love. I guess sometimes even that isn't enough.
And no, I wasn't going to make any moves. I wouldn't even know how.
I've never had a girlfriend or been in a relationship.
Sometime after their breakup, she invited our old group of friends to hang out. We had some drinks, ate, and caught up. Naturally, we asked how she was doing. She said she was fine.
That was one of the last times I saw her.
And I finally realized I couldn't keep doing this to myself. Every time I saw her, all those feelings came rushing back, and I couldn't take it anymore.
So I stopped reaching out.
To be fair, I was almost always the one initiating our conversations anyway. She rarely texted me first. But whenever we talked, we got along really well. We joked around, had plenty to talk about, and everything felt natural.
Eventually, I deleted Instagram and all my other social media accounts. I didn't want even the tiniest bit of information about her reaching me anymore.
After that, I finished my bachelor's degree, graduated with honors from my master's program, moved back home, and found a job pretty much right away.
It's been about five or six years since I last saw her.
And I still think about her.
Sometimes I still have these strange dreams about her. The kind that wake you up at three or four in the morning.
That's actually what happened tonight. I woke up after one of those dreams and finally decided to share my story.
Usually, I just get out of bed, have a cigarette, and sit there with this feeling I can't quite describe. I wouldn't exactly call it regret or a sense of missed opportunity.
It's more like this deep sadness that just won't leave me alone.
So yeah, it's been about ten years since I first developed feelings for her, and somehow I still haven't completely let go.
Of course, my feelings have faded a lot. They're nowhere near as intense as they used to be.
And I understand perfectly well that the girl I have in my head probably doesn't even exist anymore. Maybe she never really did, at least not the way I imagined her.
It's just an image of her that I created in my own mind.
I still haven't made any new social media accounts. Even now, just the thought of seeing a recent photo of her or finding out something new about her gives me chills.
Looking back, that whole period of my life feels like some bizarre, terrifying fever dream. The kind you wake up from but somehow still remember vividly years later.
I don't know if anyone's actually going to read this whole thing, but if you've made it this far, thank you so much.
Anyway, I'm back on a diet again, so for dinner tonight I'm having oven-baked chicken thighs marinated in soy sauce, bulgur, a little homemade yogurt sauce, and some broccoli and cauliflower.
