Hey, hope you’re doing well! I recently visited your website, and the confessions you put up really help take away some of the weight people carry, letting them vent anonymously. I wanted to share this.
Three years ago, I was using Omegle and randomly connected with a guy who was four years younger than me. Initially, we sexted and then shared our Instagram IDs, just our fake accounts. After that, we would text each other only when we were feeling horny. But gradually, that changed, and we began chatting about our daily lives, sharing what was happening in his life and mine, mostly over calls since we preferred those to texting.
Over time, this became a routine for us, but we both stayed anonymous. Without knowing each other’s identity, we got really close, learning more about each other. Eventually, we started having feelings. One day, when he was drunk, he texted me, saying he had feelings for me. I felt the same but thought it might just be the alcohol. Yet, the next day, he felt the same, and days went by with us continuing to talk and grow closer.
One day, he wanted to see me. I wanted to see him too, but I was scared and insecure about sharing a real picture of myself. He kept insisting, so I sent him a fake picture, telling him it was me to make him stop asking. These conversations stayed in our spam accounts, and months later, we finally shared our real accounts -though I didn’t post or share any pictures of myself there.
At one point, we both knew we loved each other. He loved talking to me on calls, but I was just faking my identity. He rarely asked for pictures, and when he did, I sent fake ones. He sometimes asked for video calls, but I would always find a reason to avoid it, and he was okay with that. Years went by, and we got so close that I knew his daily routine from morning to night.
We would talk all day, doing crazy and weird things together. We had fun, enjoyed each other’s company, argued, made up, and continued. He always told me never to lie, that lying was a big deal for him. Every time I wanted to tell him that the picture wasn’t me, I was terrified of how he would react – would he keep talking to me, or would it end? I was in another country, while he was in India.
For his birthday, I sent him gifts, and I loved seeing him happy because of me. I’d order him food when he craved it, and it made me feel good to spend on him. I even got to know some of his friends. He trusted me so much that he told me everything, including family issues that made him feel low. Apart from that one lie about my picture, I was true to him. We had even planned to meet, but it didn’t work out.
Whenever he asked for a picture, I’d make up a reason to avoid it. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I never had the courage to open up. Three years went by, with me feeling guilty for pretending to be someone else. Then, one day, he discovered that the picture I’d sent was fake and asked me who it really was. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t reply. We stopped talking, and when I finally texted him asking if I could call, he said no.
I begged him, and eventually, he agreed. I was crying on the call, asking him to forgive me. He told me he didn’t want to hear me crying and told me to stop, but I couldn’t. He hung up. After that, I kept texting him, saying sorry, even though I knew it wouldn’t change anything. The guilt was killing me. His last message to me was, “I still love you but hate you at the same time.
Your voice is running through my mind, and that picture keeps coming up.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him the truth; I just didn’t have the courage to do it when I should have. I loved him so much. We stopped talking, and he blocked me everywhere. But the guilt is eating me alive. The trauma is killing me. More than my own feelings, I don’t know how he’s coping. He trusted me so deeply.
If I had told him the truth at the beginning, he might have accepted it. But I didn’t, and I shattered everything he believed in. He probably doubts whether I was ever genuine. We were so deeply connected that whenever we argued and didn’t talk for a day, we’d both end up crying from missing each other. I know how strong our bond was, but I messed it all up. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
It’s been three months since we last spoke, but I haven’t slept well in months. I think about him every second. I don’t know if I’ll ever come out of this trauma, and I know it must be a trauma for him too – and who can he even share it with? I sometimes hope he would give me a chance to explain, but I don’t want to stay in his life and ruin it further. I just want to say I’m sorry. One apology won’t change anything, but the guilt of knowing I ruined someone’s life is unbearable.
I wanted to confess this, even though I know I’ll get hate comments for what I did. It might make things worse, but I feel a little lighter for venting my feelings.