to the boy who made me feel impossible to love
This life that I’m living? It’s for me now. It’s not about you. This is the last time that I’m choosing to include you in my narrative. This life is mine. You’re not in it.
To the boy who broke my heart for the first time,
To the boy who still lingers in my mind like an ocean wave that comes and goes,
To the boy whose voice is ironed in my ears and whose hands are tattooed to my neck,
To the boy who made me feel hard to love,
I hope you’ve found happiness, truly. I hope you’ve found even a sliver of the peace that I’ve been searching so desperately for since the last time we spoke. I hope you’ve found enough joy for the both of us.
I don’t think you realize what you did to me. Part of me doesn’t think you even care, but that wouldn’t be out of the norm, would it? You took something. You didn’t take it when you left though. You took little bits of me every time you smiled at me so genuinely that you had me fooled enough to believe that I was your priority. You took those little bits every time you denied me the silence that I craved, the peace that I needed, and the happiness that I wanted to believe you could give me. You took little bits of me every day from the moment we first met. You took my trust away. You took my innocent naivety away from me. You were the first taste I got of a man who didn’t know how to love without limits. You were the first taste I got of a man who couldn’t help but play around with more than he could handle.
You took away my trust in the goodness of people. I love to love, and you took advantage of that. You took away something that I don’t think I’ll ever get back, and I can’t forgive you for that. I don’t want to forgive you for that, but you made me, didn’t you? You forced me to forgive you before I was ready because you couldn’t handle the idea of being alone. You couldn’t handle the fact that you’d hurt me so much and you couldn’t undo it.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately, more than I’d like to. I’m trying so hard. I’m trying so hard to get over what you did to me, but I can’t. I can’t escape you. I can’t escape the way you made me feel. I can’t help but think that every man has the same intentions you did. I can’t help but think that every man lies the way you did. I can’t help but feel like I’m going to be trapped, suffocated by any relationship that I involve myself in. I can’t help but think of you every time, and that’s not fair. That’s not fair to the men I’m going to be with. That’s not fair to me.
I would say I need you to feel sorry for what you put me through, but I think we both know that such pleasantries would get me nowhere closer to the healing that I need to be happy. I guess I just need you to know that what you did wasn’t fair. I need you to know that you broke me then, but I’m choosing to heal now. I’m not letting you sabotage one more good thing. I’m not letting you take away one more moment of happiness. I’m not letting you destroy my self worth, my self love, or my self image one more moment. This life that I’m living? It’s for me now. It’s not about you. This is the last time that I’m choosing to include you in my narrative. This life is mine. You’re not in it.