Okay, so I guess I'd better explain myself.
Most of you are aware of the pregnancy. This is really where things need to be straightened out.
The child - my now ex-girlfriend's child - was not mine. She forced me to lie to everyone that I was in contact with to tell them that it was mine so I could not back out of the relationship. Why? Because if I left, she would have to tell the biological father (which for some reason was verboten - no idea why, it was for his "protection" and to a certain extent she used me to cover up her irresponsibility with reproductive organs to make it look at least "normal"). Granted, some of you will see this as trying to save face; allow me to expand.
I met her in November. We did not have any sort of romantic encounter until early December, and even then I made sure that I used the correct precautions. Her child was born sometime in May, two weeks overdue (I would rather not reveal the exact dates in the interests of protecting the identity of said child). Let's say, for example, that this child was born on the 17th of May - two weeks overdue. The conception date would be sometime in late July. Thus, it is mathematically impossible.
However... at this time (from reports I have gathered from peers as well as just gossip), she was having regular intercourse with her best friend (who happened to be male) and did so for a few weeks. She was not active with anyone else at this time - therefore, I must conclude that she was fertilised by that man as it is the only mathematical possibility.
Not only this, but she also told me that she was pregnant around January, saying that her best friend was the father. This put me under a lot of emotional stress as - like I said - she continued to idolise him. Not only that, but I wasn't getting much sleep, I fell behind with my college work (was predicted top grades start of the year, barely scraped into the second year). Child was born - my advice to you all is never be in a birthing room. Ever. You won't sleep ever again. I still have flashbacks several months later, and I cannot be in the same place as an infant or I get panic attacks.
Relationship went from disaster to disaster, her mother took out lots of her anger and frustration on me needlessly and without warning - eventually I had a breakdown. I did other not-good things during that period; the total result of which means I'm now on antidepressants for the next few months. Perhaps a year, but they're going to monitor my progress.
The good news? Well, there's not much of it... I'm doing well in college, I got a job as a projectionist in the local cinema and my social life has gone away once again and I'm happy being the reclusive anti-social teen loser I once was.
Morals of the story? Never let yourself be used, always do the right thing even if it seems wrong at the time, if you have sex with anyone use a condom, if things get rough at rock bottom don't take it out on yourself, if you find yourself with a lot of money all of a sudden then don't spend it on stupid stuff, and most importantly... cheap energy drinks, extreme exhaustion and a full wallet do not make a good combination.
