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It’s a little embarrassing to admit my weakness, as it is for everyone who writes their confessions on this site. But I really want to speak out. And maybe I want someone to draw some conclusions from my story.

The trouble is that I want to kill the person I love and care about.

Well, there’s one person in the world who is the most precious to me. For many years we have been in a strange friendship. He needed this friendship at first (and he doesn’t deny it), because his life was going so badly that so many people hated him and everything was going wrong, but I saw in him an outstanding mind and great abilities. I tried and proved it to him. In the end I even got him the job he wanted. And I was happy.

Well, there’s one person in the world who is the most precious to me. For many years we have been in a strange friendship. He needed this friendship at first (and he doesn’t deny it), because his life was going so badly that so many people hated him and everything was going wrong, but I saw in him an outstanding mind and great abilities. I tried and proved it to him. In the end I even got him the job he wanted. And I was happy.

Over the years, he has grown strong and now has a solid income, while I, on the other hand, have aged and moved to a less qualified job for health reasons. My greatest fear in life is loneliness. I am divorced, God did not give me children. Believe it or not, I never planned a family relationship with Eugene, the name of my successful friend. But I, like the last fool, always believed that friendship is support. The kind of support that I need now is communication (even for 20 minutes, even once a week – Zhenya lives 200 meters away from me) or a call, even with the hackneyed phrase “how are you?” or “how are you feeling?” or a simple smiley face that means they remember me.

Yes, Zhenya comes, but only when he feels bad, when he needs to cry into my hem. On other occasions, when he comes, he either gets into a hurtful argument with me (the last time we argued about whether anyone who does not earn millions has the right to use the services of a lawyer), or he sits silently, not responding to any of my words or questions, or incessantly lectures me. If I ask him to help me in any way, like a man – to fetch, to move, to meet me – he either remains silent or promises and never speaks of the request again. Every time I try to talk to him, Eugene says that I am “blowing his mind,” but he makes sure to say that he needs me, that he would not be interested in life without me. At the same time, I was not allowed to call him during the last year, as he has an extremely important job (the very one I helped him get to), and he never, ever calls me back, explaining that he thinks that the issue is probably already solved. There have been three occasions this year when I dialed his number when I was in the hospital, but there was no answer.

I am only a woman, friendship and affection are EVERYTHING to me! But at every meeting with Evgeny Sergeyevich, at every word he says, I swallow tears, and then I cannot sleep for several more days. I know that he is the smartest, most intellectual person. I know that, by teaching me, he realizes his ambition. I know that he feels bad and that’s why he doesn’t talk, that he sincerely doesn’t believe that I feel bad and that I’m in the hospital.

Yes I have become very attached in 16 years of dating, yes I don’t understand how relationships and thoughts can change like that. But more and more often, I think it would have been less painful if Zhenya had died. Yes, I would have cried and remembered him for the rest of my life, but there would have been at least some bright thoughts, some bright memories in my soul. If “dreams” about my friend’s death had come and gone before, I have been thinking about it every day for the past two months. Moreover, I agree to do such a thing and go to jail myself. But I will know for sure that I will never again experience the incompatible pain of being destroyed by my dearest and closest person. You will say that you can just stop communicating with him altogether. Only he lives next door, I can even see the window of his apartment. Besides, our mutual acquaintances are bound to tell me about him, and even worse, to question him. Sorry, I can’t move to another city – I don’t have the money, and my job keeps me busy.

He recently told me that while pouring gasoline at the cottage, a spark flashed somewhere and he could have burned, and I thought I would have been relieved then. Such a horror!

Now I understand the “movie people” who destroy their loved ones out of resentment. I’m afraid of becoming like that.

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