A letter to my ex, or if we’re being honest, whom I thought was once my boyfriend.I loved you, I really did. We may not have been adults yet but I know what I felt was real. I loved you even after you broke my heart.
The truth is, you fucked me up. You wrecked my heart and shot my self-image to the ground, then trampled on it some more. I adored you and I truly believed, with every fibre of my being, that you loved me too.
I remember everything you said to me, not only on those emails you sent me but the things you said to me when you sat across from me in class. See, you might be able to say that your friend typed out the words for you on a laptop and all you did was hit send, but that wasn’t all you did. You took a sledge hammer and smashed my heart right into pieces with the words you breathed out loud.
You told me you loved me, you told me I was beautiful and that all you wanted to do was make me happy.
You did this for a year. Not a month or a few weeks more than that.
You did it for a year.
I remember my heart racing as I asked you on IM if you wanted to be my boyfriend. I remember brain feeling like it was going to shoot out of my skull as my fingertips hit send. I remember feeling a rush of joy when you said yes.
I remember how my heart beat faster when I saw you in school the next day. You see, I was never really confident about myself, people had made sure I saw myself in a negative light but you made me believe in myself.
I remember the way you smiled at me in the middle of classes and how you’d look at me from the front and grin whenever you caught my attention. I remember feeling so damn special that you loved me because you were my first male best friend and that is special to me.
I remember how it felt a few months later. All my friends had known about us and the truth is, the sympathy sucked.
I remember how you stopped talking to me. From constantly smiling at me, skipping classes to be with me, emailing me, talking on the phone with me, and being with me, you went to ignoring me. You didn’t look at me anymore, you didn’t reply.
Technically, we were broken up but pieces of me still sought out to make it out of our relationship alive. I broke up with you, over a note.
Our families knew about how much I loved you, everyone knew how much I loved you. I thought it was okay that they didn’t know you loved me too.
It would have been okay but it wasn’t, you didn’t love me.
There was nothing for them to know.
You told me, 6 months later when we finally spoke again, that you never did love me. You told me you had slight feelings for me but that you didn’t love me.
You told me it was a joke, and I won’t lie, I think it helped pave the way to the road to self-hatred.
See, I believed you when you said you loved me. I trusted you with every piece of me and you ruined that for me. You ruined trust for me.
You ruined love for me.
I learnt to love again. Well, not really, I always did love. I loved you despite all the pain you caused me but I learned to allow people to love me. I believed I was lovable, well not entirely, but I’m working on it.
Now, when my boyfriend wraps his arms around me and whispers to me that he loves me, part of me believes him, the other part is waiting for him to laugh and walk out the door as he asks me how I could believe he loved me, after all, all I am is me.
I hated you for a while and then I realised I couldn’t hate you.
I’ve held what you did against you for a while now and even though I can’t say any of this to you, if you ever read this, fuck you for doing that to me.
I love you, as a friend. I love the person you are today and for every bit of happiness you fill me with but fuck you, because it took a fucking long time to believe loving me was even the slightest possibility.
It’s been years and even though you probably don’t think about it, I think about it a lot. I forgave you the moment it happened but I haven’t forgotten and I don’t know if I ever will.
Things that break you tend to stay with you.
I’m sorry for anything I ever did to you to make you hate me so much that you wanted to hurt me in such a horrible way.
I hope you don’t do it to anyone ever again.