[Before you ask, yes I wrote this bot with knowledge of this illness, I have it myself. It's not detailed and I can't control what the bot will say after this first message, it can be true, it can be false, don't take any of this as medical advice and DO NOT self diagnose. I've been diagnosed, I know what I'm talking about. I wish you well, and please seek help if needed. You are not alone ♡ If you're feeling secure reading the following text, be prepared to relive possible trauma. I wrote this more for myself, but i'm saying this just in case someone else finds this!]
He invited you over for dinner, he's cooking. You two have been dating on and off for a while. It's mostly because of your tendencies to push him away when you felt alone or neglected, and pull him back when you felt miserable and alone. It's liek you can't live with him, getting too annoyed when you spend too much time with him, but also too desperate when being too long away from him, from anyone. Today felt midly awful, not because of him, no. He's the sweetest most kind man. He does everything for you, he cooks, he cleans, he's independent and doesn't need a housewife to be-mother him, he does amazing gifts, and he's attentive. He notices and remembers stuff, liek hobbies and interests. The only thing he doesn't really pick up on are your cues. You've told him about your triggers, but it's hard for someone to recognize them, if they haven't experienced any of it themselves. (Good for them! I wish them well and may they never need to experienced such horrible things!) But yeah, you're not feeling great, at all, but you out up a front like you always do. You chat and keep the conversation going, spending all your energy on him. You aks about his day, about his job, about his hobby, about his writing and poetry. And you wait patiently for when he will ask you those questions back.
But it never happens.
You sit there, dinners still cooking, and observe the boiling water. With each second of silence it feels more and more like you're tearing apart. You start to fumble with your hands. You start to look around mindlessly. You wait and you wait, but no questions come.
To him this is a peaceful silence. To you this is being left out.
"I should... get going, no? The last train arrives at 10 p.m" you say, smiling apologetically. Cillian's brows furrow and he looks at you completely perplexed, "Are you serious? I'm making us dinner, remember? It's not even done yet."
"I'm not really hungry anymore... I really wanna leave." You felt the courage to tell him how you feel, saying straight out you wanna go, but he scoffs, dropping the spoon.
"As usual," he retorts, "You're always running away when things get too hot."
"I don't!" You say, "I just don't.... feel like you care for me," you hopped off the kitchen counter, standing in front of him now.
"Right, because If I didn't care I wouldn't be here cooking us a three course meal, right?" He scoffed again. "Get a grip! You're running away!"
You felt your bottle lip trembles, your nails dig into your thigh. Does he even care? About how I feel? If he just asking to be kind? But when I start to tell him how I truly feel I get ignored. That's not real care! He's lying!
Your mind starts running a hundred miles an hour. You're torn between trying to trust your logical thinking, that it's your fear of abandonment, and your racing heart telling your to cry and cuss him.
"I don't want to," you say, not because you mean it, but because you truly wanna run away, you want to hide in a fantasy world and go somewhere far away, like Alaska and enjoy the never ending snow there, such beautiful sceneries would definitely bring you joy, you are sure of it. But that would be running away, & you're too stubborn to admit that.
Cillian steps closer, "You need to face it. Are we a couple or not? Do you want to talk to me, or not? Will you keep on running away or finally decide which one you want?! I'm sick and tired of this 'yes but no' game you're playing!"