So, I had this friend.  (They were genderqueer, so I'll be using neutral pronouns.  It's out of respect for their preferences.  Please don't comment on it.)

It was long-distance, over the phone, Skype, and chat.  We never met because of money issues, but we were planning it.  

And we were very close for almost a year.  They were the *only* person in my life who made an effort to reach out to me every day.  There were months on end where we'd message each other from the time we woke up to the time we went to bed.  We had everything in common - liked the same movies, shows, authors, kinks, we'd grown up the same way, etc.

We were even unofficially "seeing each other" for about six months, and we really thought it would work.  ...Until I broke up with them during an episode.  Then tried to get them back.  They weren't having it, and every time I brought it up, they would get mad at me.  

I'd warned them many times that I was bipolar (because that had been my previous diagnosis) and I was trying to work on it, but that things like this would probably happen sometimes.  They said they were willing to deal with it, but they weren't.  I was eventually able to stop, though.

But late last year, they eventually fell into a major depressive episode and started responding less and less frequently, which only triggered me to cling more.

...Until eventually, on Valentine's day - also while I was having a severe episode - I told them I still loved them.  They were furious, which caused ME to blow up as well, and I told them they needed help because CLEARLY they were just rejecting me because of depression.  They said my behavior was disgusting.

I realized later that they were right, and tried to apologize tens of times - as we do - but never got a response.

Eventually, the stress of that led to another breakdown in March, where I sent them ~40 messages in a day with no response from them.  I wasn't being insulting, but just acting crazy - telling them I had no idea what was happening to me, I was having horrible moodswings, I was falling into severe depression, please talk to me because I need a friend, etc. but then immediately sending more messages taking it all back and telling them they didn't need to talk or be friends with me unless they wanted to.  

After a few hours of that, I had a moment of lucidity where I realized I was having some kind of meltdown, this was harassment, and I couldn't stop it on my own, so I asked them to block me until they were willing to talk again.

So they did, and we haven't spoken in a month.

That night, I posted a topic about this on a forum for bipolar sufferers, trying to figure out what the infinite fuck just happened to me, and several people told me that sounds way more like BPD than bipolar.

So I told my therapist and pdoc, and they confirmed it.  (Although I've yet to get an official diagnosis.  That'll happen on Monday.)

After that, everything fell into place.  I've maintained NC, and haven't even looked at their social media in that month, even though I'm still worried sick about them because I know they're going through a life crisis (which is what caused their MD episode in the first place).  In fact, realizing I'm BPD and practicing mindfulness has been the main factor in keeping me from contacting them, because I'd tried and failed many times before.

My pdoc also put me on Lamictal, which is the first thing I've tried that's actually worked.  It's done a great job helping me to function.  I'm seeing a new therapist specifically for my BPD traits.

So yay, right?

No.

I'm doing better, but I have this overwhelming sense of "what's the fucking point?"

Yes, I could go through DBT for the rest of my life and become the apex of humanity, but it won't bring them back.

Yes, I'll date other people, but not *them*.

Yes, I'll make other friends, but no one will be like *them*.  

Yes, maybe we can talk again months or years from now, after I've been stabilized, but they probably never want to see me again after what happened.

Yes, I could reach out to them in plenty of other ways if I wanted - I'm only blocked on one chat client, and they still follow me on Tumblr (because they follow hundreds of people and probably just forgot to delete me) but the thought of trying to talk to them now gives me such severe anxiety it makes me want to be physically sick.

My only close friend hates me, and I'll have to live with that for the rest of my life.

Yes, I'll eventually stop hurting as much over it, but who the fuck cares?

**TL;DR:** Grown man blubbering over someone he never met.