Eighteen months. You were the ruin of me for eighteen months. I would get to a place where I’d be okay and then you’d pop back in my life again with everything I fell in love with in the beginning and remind me that love isn’t a switch you can turn on or off again. You’d look at me with that sparkle in your eyes and that lopsided grin you knew I couldn’t refuse and I was gone all over again. I went weak in the knees and you pretended for a little while you’d be there to catch me when my legs gave out, and then left my heart bleeding on the ground when they did.
You were my first real love. Intense, real love. I let you see parts of me that nobody ever sees. I let you in my life, in my heart. I showed you the fire in my eyes, and the inferno of my heart. I gave you everything I had, and I didn’t get even half of what I gave back. Even when you constantly hurt me, put me down over and over again, I gave everything I could. You broke me in the worst way any man could break anyone. You broke my heart, nearly snuffed out the flame. My foolish, innocent heart. How could I let it go on so long? I gave someone the power to stifle my flame, and you almost did, didn’t you? You didn’t care and that’s what nearly killed me. The heartbreak was real. The pain I felt matched no other. I couldn’t understand how someone I loved so much, who knew how much I loved them, could hurt me so badly. But I kept going back, hoping that one day you would see how I loved you like I felt no one else could. But you never did, did you? Or maybe you did, and didn’t care. It’s small realizations like this that would have killed me two months ago, but now? I am relieved. I got myself out. I let it go on for way too long. Eighteen months is far too long. You used words you knew would break me inside, because you knew I’d be there. I have always been there to satisfy your every need, fulfill your every whim, no matter how many times you break me. I hate myself for being so readily available to you, but I still bent over backwards to please you. I would have broken my bones a thousand times over if you asked me to, and you knew I would. You knew how much I cared about you, and you didn't give a damn. I know now that you were poison in my life, but it was a poison so sweet and addictive that I kept coming back. You’re a thorn hidden in a bouquet of roses. A corruptness in the innocence. You tempted me with the ideas of a life and a family. You said you didn’t want to ruin our friendship, but was it really a friendship if you're just using me? Your actions suggested that you wanted more than a friendship. If your body and mind were of one accord, then you wouldn’t have kissed me like you did, knowing I was so irrevocably in love with you. You seemed like you wanted something more, but you were constantly telling me that you didn’t. Last time we spoke, I told you what you already knew. I told you I was in love with you. I told you I couldn’t continue on like we were, though you seemed content to play around when you needed someone to help you get off. You told me what I already suspected. You didn’t like me like that. You couldn’t bear to ruin our friendship, and with those words, shattered my world. I stopped texting you first, stopped waiting for you to realize that I was down for you, gave up hope on you completely. I allowed myself to mourn for you, to mourn the loss of a love and a life that I had envisioned for us. I allowed myself to break completely, so I could begin the process of mending what had been so long broken, and hastily repaired time and time again. I gave up. I remember then, planning my death. I gathered pills, wrote the notes, and began giving my stuff away. I cut myself. I scarred my own skin, hoping it would match the scars on my heart. It was then when I got help. I went away. I stayed there for six days. It helped, somewhat. I was still addicted to you, though. I spiraled further into depression. I almost killed myself again. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t give you that satisfaction. And in the end, what does it all matter? Me loving you. You not returning my feelings. The intimacy, stolen kisses, all of it? What does it matter? I’ve lost you, although you were never really mine to begin with. All we really were was stolen moments, inexperienced children playacting as adults, as lovers, as if we knew what we were doing. But I was playing with fire, and when you play with fire, though it might not happen the first few times, in the end, you do get burned. I guess that’s something we all have to come to terms with, isn’t it? The loss of love. The loss of something we so badly wanted. When something we thought would last indefinitely turns out to have a finite number stamped on it. It doesn’t mean we fall apart and stay that way. We fall apart to fall back together, in a stronger fashion. It’s the cycle of life. We live, we love, we break, and we come back better than we were before. So I guess this means I’m writing a thank you letter, of sorts. You taught me things. You taught me that life doesn’t revolve around a singular exceptional love, but is compiled of multiple exceptional loves and heartbreaks, and with each new heartbreak, you become stronger, wiser, and more beautiful. We aren’t perfect people, we’re all broken. We all have scars. We all have our heartbreaks, our breakdowns. We’re all broken, despite the front we put on for the sake of other people, heaven forbid someone sees it’s a masquerade. We’re all imperfect, and beautiful. Also, you taught me we’re all just people. Nobody hung the moon and stars just for a specific person. We can’t be perfect. If we were, we’d be uninteresting. Nobody would be as intriguing. Remember that time we stayed on the phone all night, because neither of us could bear to hang up? When I fell asleep in your bed in your arms? What about when you fell apart in my arms, because your parents were fighting and considering divorce? I remember all of it. Every detail, every stolen kiss, every touch. I remember realizing that even the most perfect people in our lives aren’t perfect. Realizing that everyone is broken, and it takes someone special to pull us back together. I remember thinking that maybe I was that person for you. But I also remember coming to the realization I never was, nor would I ever be. I remember falling apart and wondering where you were, why you weren’t holding me like I held you. Then realizing that I was falling apart because of you. Maybe you loved someone who didn’t love you like you loved them. Maybe that's why you constantly broke my heart, because you didn’t know anything else. Maybe she shattered your heart, and maybe you never fully mended. I hope that didn’t happen. Honestly, I don’t remember a time before when I didn’t love you. It’s a funny feeling, hating and loving someone at the same time. It’s a contradiction. But then again, isn’t love a contradiction? We live and we love and we fall and we break and we mend and we love again. Science says that after so much pain, you learn not to go back to the thing that hurt you, that your mind tells your body that the pain is too much, that it’s not worth going back to. With love, it’s not like that. We go back time and time again, and our mind tells us that it IS worth it, that they’ll eventually realize, that we won’t get hurt this time, and even if we do, it’s alright. It won’t be that bad. But it always is. It’s worse and we don’t care, because we got a little taste of the love we so desperately crave, even though it destroys us. But I do remember exactly when I stopped loving you. I was lying in bed next you. You were playing on your phone, and I had my head on your chest. You opened snapchat, and I saw you had snaps from four other girls. Underneath them, there was my name. Underneath my name, five other girls. I watched you open them. All said close to the same thing. “Come over” “Come see me” “Babe, come see me at work”. It was right there, laying in bed in your arms, where I fell out of love with you. That night, after we ate dinner, I went home and cried. But not for very long. I cried for about fifteen minutes, and then I took a bath, and let myself begin the long and painful process of healing. I realized then what I had been ignoring for so long. I realized you never loved me, and never would. I was a toy for you. A game. A girl who was exactly 11 blocks from you, who was willing to do whatever you wanted in hopes that you would love her. I shouldn’t have cried for you. You weren’t worth the time or the tears. You weren’t worth my heart. And I know you’ll never read this. That’s why I have the balls to say everything. Because you’ll never see how badly you hurt me. You’ll never see the way you break me. I’ve drifted out of your life now. Out of your grasp. Forever. I pray I find someone who makes me forget all about you. Someone who I’ll hope it will be every time the phone rings, instead of you. When I finally blocked you, it felt like a weight off my shoulders. A weight I didn’t even know I was carrying. I know I wasn’t that weight for you. You never cared for me like I cared for you, and you never will. It’s your loss, and my freedom. I hope one day, when you’re sitting in your den with the love of your life, surrounded by your children, you think back to me. To how I loved you. How I wanted so desperately to be a part of that life and that future. I hope you turn to her, kiss her, and promise to love her more freely than you loved anyone ever. Ponder me in your heart. But not just me. Ponder the love, devotion, the emotion I felt every time I saw you. Wonder if the love you feel for your wife was how I felt about you. Because it WAS. I hope that you realize that I loved you and you broke me. I hope that you cry and send me a message apologizing for breaking me when I was a teenager. Because I’ll forgive you. I’ll always forgive you. Maybe one day, I’ll forget. I’ll fall in love with someone else. I’ll get married and have a family, and all you will be is a distant memory and a lesson learned. Maybe then, the small stab of pain I feel in my heart everytime I see you will go away. A person who shaped me, molded me into who I am. Because through the heartbreak, the tears, and the love I felt for you, I became myself. I became the woman I am today. A stronger woman. A woman who knows how to love without borders, without boundaries, and with all she has. I know I am mending. I know I’m getting over you. It’s a good feeling. I in no way regret you. I do regret, however, how long I allowed you to mistreat me. I regret letting myself stay in an abusive and poisonous relationship, when I so adamantly preach leaving an abuse-type relationship. Eighteen months of my life were consumed by you, but guess what? One hundred and eighty-six months were not. I was perfectly fine for one hundred and eighty-six months before you. And after you? I’m on month one. Month one of being okay without you. One month of being able to breathe normally when I pass you in the halls at school. There will never be another month of my life where I cry over you, mourn for you, pray for you to be mine. You will never again be the center of my life. So thank you for breaking my heart. For teaching me that some things aren’t infinite, and when they turn out to be finite, it’s not the end of the world. For showing me you are not worth it, and that I will love again. I will love someone that isn’t you. I will love….. Myself. I will love myself the way you never did. I will freely give compassion, show mercy, be kind. I will forever remember the pain you caused me, and never allow myself to cause anyone else that devastating pain. It was a pleasure to have my heart broken by you. I lived and learned. That’s what being a teenager is all about, isn’t it? Love, live and learn. Everyone makes mistakes, and unfortunately, you were mine. I’m bound to make millions more, but hopefully not as large. I will never spend eighteen months on someone who doesn’t return my affection. Nor will I vye for attention from a man who will not give me the time of day. In the end, none of it even matters. You didn’t care, and nor will I. I will grow, fall in love, get married. I will make mistakes and goofy faces. I’ll sometimes burn dinner, because I’m too busy marveling at the man I fell in love with, the man I marry. We’ll dance around the house at 2 a.m. and bake cookies. We will sing off tune, then laugh because of absolutely nothing. I’ll wear his tee shirt and slide in my sock feet across the floor. We will live and laugh and love and fight and make up and just be happy. And one day, I’ll tell him about you. I’ll tell him about The Boy Who Broke Me. I’ll tell him why I can love him so freely, and it will be all because of you. So, thank you. You will never again control me or my life. Thank you.
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Photo credit:
Autumn Dunn |