Again

               What is it about you that makes me unable to forget you?

               What is it that has imprinted the image of you into my brain permanently?

               Is it your hair? Your eyes? Your height? Is it your lips? Your hands?

               Or is it all the above and everything they represent?

               Like the way I ran my fingers through your hair, even when you’d get it cut so short it was almost nonexistent.

               The way your beautiful blue eyes looked at me in just the right way to let me know what you were thinking at that moment.

               The way you are so much taller than me that I can fit underneath your arm, but it never made anything awkward. If anything, it made everything better.

               The way your lips would curl into the most perfect smile I had ever seen, and when they’d kiss me so gently it almost felt like a whisper against my skin.

               Or the way your hands, though significantly larger than my baby hands, fit perfectly with mine no matter the size difference. And the way they fit together made it feel like home.

               I don’t know what it is about you exactly that makes me so incapable of getting you out of my mind. I really, truly, have no idea what it is.

               I wish with every ounce of my being that I could pin-point one specific thing about you and shun it from my brain, so I could forget about you forever. But I can’t. It is impossible for my heart and my mind to come together as one and agree that you need to be gone for good. Even though it would be for the good of me. Wouldn’t it?

               I had forgotten about you. I remember.

The last night I thought about you was November 16^th, 2016. I guess it was technically the 17^th by that point because it was 3:49 AM when I texted you. The worst part was I was texting you because I had gotten over you. I was so angry because I didn’t miss you anymore. I guess that just shows the damage alcohol can do to an emotional person.

That was the last time I thought of you, like really thought of you, for a year, a month, and fifteen days. I didn’t contact you. I tried to be friends with you once or maybe twice in that time, but I never really wanted to. I completely forgot about you and everything you stood for.

Then you reached out to me. I knew it was you. You didn’t say. But I knew.

Don’t ask me how I knew. I think people have this connection with one another, and in cases like that, they just know.

It was simple. “Text me? You know.”

I didn’t react. I think I didn’t react because you were right, I did know. I wanted to be wrong. To this day I wish I had been wrong. I wish I had texted someone completely different because maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this complete nonsense that no one really cares to hear about. God, I could have. A part of me thought maybe I was just assuming because I wanted it to be you. I wanted you to care about me again. But I knew it was wrong to think it could be anyone else.

And it was.

Because it was you.

Here you were again, well over a year later. You. Reaching out to me. Wanting to be back in my life. Offering to start over. Missing me. Like I didn’t miss you.

I should have known it would break me. I should have known it would get to me. Get right underneath my fragile, thin skin. You always do. And I let you.

Now here I am, two months later, having no contact with you yet again. Probably for good. Part of me hopes it’s for good. Lord knows another part of me will always hope it’s not. I’m sitting here, thinking of you, writing about it, and hating that that’s all I know how to do. It’s all I’ve ever known how to do.

I don’t know how I stopped before.

I don’t know how I ever wanted someone else.

I don’t know how I ever wanted you to be gone.

I don’t know how I’ll ever want that again.

I don’t know if I’ll ever want that again.

A Letter to Myself from a Year Ago

An Open Letter to Myself from a Year Ago

You did it. You made it. You survived.

A year ago you never thought you’d make it to this point, but you did. I am sitting here writing this letter to you, my past self, to tell you that you made it! You got through one of the hardest years of your life. I’m writing this for you because as I look back at old pictures, old texts, etc., I remember the pain you felt. I remember the hopelessness you felt, and how impossible everything was. But I’m here to tell you how proud I am that you, we, got through it all.

Do you remember that summer? You thought that summer would be perfect, but it was really the second worst summer of your life. All because of a boy. But he loved you, right? I mean, he talked like he did. He kind of acted like he did. He even said he did. So naturally, he did, right? You let your whole summer be consumed by him. You were so miserable. From June, his birthday and Deana’s death anniversary day, to July, then August. He told you all of these things, these lies, and you loved him so you believed him. You knew he was lying. But you ignored it. You gave him so many chances, and finally you got away from it. You may not be happy with yourself, but let me tell you: I am so proud of you.

Do you remember November? You broke that girl’s heart. You finally had let him go, you had begun to move on. You were happy. You hadn’t been that happy in so long. I remember how it felt. She treated you like a princess; something he had never done. He knew that. So what was wrong? What happened? What changed? He knew you were over him, so he changed. You thought he meant it all, so you let him get inside your head again. She tried to get you to stay and see the truth, but you were afraid of what everyone else would think. At least with him, you wouldn’t be judged. You wouldn’t have to face your family about it. She may have treated you the way you deserved, but it was just easier with him, so you hurt her. I know you still hate yourself for it, but you took responsibility for your actions. You made things right with her eventually, and even though it didn’t go how you planned, you still took that responsibility and made things right. For that, I am still so proud of you.

Do you remember the winter? December and January? Those wonderful good times that became a giant nightmare? You made a mistake, you went back. You regret it to this day, but you also wonder how things would be if you’d acted different or he had been honest. You wish you’d never met him, but without him you wouldn’t have your best friend and you wouldn’t know his amazing family. You learned so much in those two months, and despite the pain that time brought, you had fun. You were happy. Don’t forget that. Look at the memories and remember the good times, not only the bad. Don’t let those dark days ruin what once was the only light in your life. You lost that future, you thought you’d never make it through that pain. But you did. You finally moved on. You know your worth now. You know you are not the terrible things he said you were, not the terrible things he made you feel. You are beautiful, strong, and more independent than ever. Despite what he may think, I am so proud of you.

Do you remember worrying about where to go for college? You wanted so badly to go to Valpo, but people kept doubting you. You didn’t think you should even apply because they said you had no chance. It was your dream college, though. You wanted it more than anything. So you went for it. You got accepted. It is now your future home. You didn’t listen to what anyone said, and for that I am so proud of you.

Do you remember worrying about graduation? Do you remember questioning if you’d ever even see the day you’d graduate? There was a time when you weren’t sure you’d even see the day you turned 18, much less graduate. You did, though. You made it to 18 and you made it to graduation. You made it to college orientation. You made it.

You have come so far in the last year. You have changed so much. You are such a wonderful person now. For so many years, you doubted yourself and hated yourself and didn’t know what to do. But here you are.

You are a high school graduate.

You are enrolled in college classes.

You have life goals.

You believe in yourself.

For you, myself from a year ago, and for myself years from now…

I am so proud of you.

An Open Letter to My Favorite Teacher

An Open Letter to My Favorite Teacher

            It’s crazy how one trimester in a U.S. History class can influence a person so much. I hated history. I hated social studies. But on the first day of your class, August-something of 2014, I knew it would be different.

            Sure, the class still sucked. I will never love social studies or history. Sorry, bud. But, I did enjoy it. Having that class to start my day every day for twelve weeks was one of the best parts of my high school career. I had some of my favorite people in that class, and I had no idea that eventually one of my favorite people would include the teacher.       

            A lot of people have their favorite teachers, and generally those teachers are favorites simply just because of their teaching. Well, in my case, my favorite teacher is my favorite because of more than that. In the last two years, you have been an amazing teacher and friend. I don’t care if people think I’m weird, but having a teacher as one of my closest friends has proven to be one of the best things to happen in my life. You have helped me through so many difficult times in my life, you’ve been there when I’ve walked into your room bawling my eyes out on the last day of my junior year, when I’ve walked in bawling my eyes out because of a bad morning or because of my idiot ex-boyfriend. You are one of the only teachers who has ever still cared about my grades after having me in class when I was no longer your student. You have always been someone I could count on to be there for me whether it be just to chat with before or after school, or when I needed someone to really talk to about my life. I trust you more than I have ever trusted anyone, and I know I can come to you with nearly anything. I know as a student, there are probably certain topics I should not talk about with you, but either way I know you’re always there for me.

These last two years, you have had no idea how much of an influence you had on me. You have impacted me so much, and I cannot thank you enough. Graduating at the end of the year is going to be one of the most emotional experiences I will have ever gone through, and I will honestly be so sad leaving. I’m going to miss you probably more than any other teacher I’ve ever had, and I’m going to miss getting to sit in your classroom half of the time just talking. You’ve helped me through so much, and I appreciate you more than pretty much anyone. Your friendship has saved me countless times from a place I never want to go, and I don’t know how to thank you for everything you have done for me. You truly are an amazing teacher and human being. I promise I will visit next year if I get the chance, and every year after until I hopefully end up teaching there once I’m out of college.

So, to close this emotional crap out, thank you. You are an absolute blessing to our high school and to the world in general. I wish there were more people like you in the world. I hope this doesn’t make you too sad, but if it does then I’m sorry. Thank you for being the best. If you ever have a day when you feel like your students don’t appreciate you enough, or that maybe teaching isn’t really worth the crap they give you, just read this. Remember that you really do make a difference to at least some of us, and I hope that makes it worth it. I hope one day I’ll be as good of a teacher as you. Thank you.    

An Open Letter to the Good Times

               The Good Times

               When I hear those words, I think of nothing but photographs. Hundreds of photographs. Photographs of two smiling people; two young people in love. When I hear those words, I imagine two voices laughing and joking with each other for hours; two voices whispering “I love you” before they fall asleep on the phone together. When I hear those words, I see the colors blue and gold. When I hear the words “the good times,” I recall so many numbers; 11, 21, 24, 26. I recall a pug, a black lab, and a black cat. I recall every “good time” we ever had.

               The words “the good times” now are nothing more than memories fading away more and more each day. They are the photographs I still keep tucked away in their own private album on my computer. They are the numbers 11, 21, 24, 26 which meant so much to us. They are the days we spent in your living room tickling each other as if it were life or death until we got tired, surrendered, and finally fell asleep in each other’s arms. They are the times we fought and screamed for hours over nothing because of how stubborn we both were. They are the “I love you” more fights, the “I miss you” hugs, the “I’ll never leave you” promises. They are the most perfect days; the days we thought would last forever.

               The Good Times

               Those times now are in the past. From May 11, 2015 through February 4, 2016; those days must be let go now. It is time for me to package up the memories in my mind just as I packaged up your hoodies and presents. It is time for me to put them in a box in the back of my brain as I did when I put your belongings in a box under my bed. From the day we first met, to the day we last kissed; those memories and experiences in paradise must be shoved away into the dark places of my mind where I keep the brightest and happiest moments of my life. It is time to let go of these days and never look back. It is time to move on.

               May 11, 2015: The Day We First Spoke

               May 21, 2015: The Day We First Met      

               May 24, 2015: The First Time I Visited You at Work

               June 4, 2015: The First Time You Asked Me to be Yours

               June 26, 2015: Five Years Since She Died; Your Birthday

               September 26, 2015: The Day We Got Back Together, for a Day

               November 28, 2015: The First and Only Time You Visited Me at Work

               December 11, 2015: The Day We Were Finally Together, for Real

               December 15, 2015: Your Second Basketball Game

               December 16, 2015: My Christmas Orchestra Concert

               December 22, 2015: The First Day at Your House

               December 24, 2015: Christmas Eve

               December 25, 2015: Christmas Day

               December 31, 2015: New Year’s Eve

               January 2, 2016: My Birthday Party

               January 3, 2016: My Birthday

               January 9, 2016: Just a Day

               January 11, 2016: One Month

               January 16, 2016: Double Date with Your Parents

               January 22, 2016: The Mendon Game

               January 24, 2016: Our Second Movie Date

               January 30, 2016: The Last Good Time.

               I do not want to write about this day. But I have to. This day was the last time I saw you. This was the last good day. The last of the “good times.” You picked me up from my house. No one was home, so when you came to the door you greeted me with the “I miss you” hug we had only had one other time. We drove back to your house. This was the longest we’d been in the car together, and it was actually quite enjoyable. Our first real car ride together with you driving. You held my hand while you drove. I remember the stuffed penguin I got from a crane machine for you was in the seat with me. You treated that thing like it was your child. We got to your house and spent some time there. After a while of cuddling and stuff, we went for a short little drive and then went to Emma’s benefit. I felt incredibly awkward and out of place there. I barely talked, but when Emma got there I knew you needed me. I know it was stupid of me to ask if you were okay, but I was hoping you’d be honest with me and tell me you needed me. I knew you did regardless, so I tried my best to comfort you as much as I could. We left the benefit after a couple of hours to meet your family at Hacienda for dinner. Dinner with them was so much fun. I remember everyone teasing me the whole time because of how small I am. That was nothing new from your family, but they did it more than ever that night. I loved it. Your family’s the only people I ever enjoyed the teasing from. I hate it from anyone else. After dinner, your mom wanted to pick up a stove. Your parents took your truck to Lowe’s, and Curtis, you, and I took their Escape. It was so much fun running around Lowe’s with you. It felt like we were little kids. It felt like we were more of a couple in that moment than any other moment in our relationship. After Lowe’s, Curtis drove us back home. He blasted ridiculous rap music (which I ended up downloading) and I took a bunch of funny videos. I remember how much I looked forward to him being my brother one day. That was the night the song “Me, Myself & I” became kind of our song. I took that video of you kissing me, and that was it. It was our song from that moment on. Pretty ironic song choice, but I loved it nonetheless. I went home that night; you dropped me off, and we fought. We fought worse in the car that night than I think we’d ever fought before. I hated that fight. I hated it so much. That fight was what finally broke me down. It made me realize you didn’t want me anymore. That one fight about her. You’ll never understand. But that doesn’t matter now. When we reached my house, we sat for a minute and fixed things. I made sure we were okay. I made sure you were okay. When you finally got home, everything blew up. I don’t mean in a terrible way, either. I mean the “I love you more than life itself” way. That night you made me feel more wanted and loved than I’d ever felt in my entire life. I thought finally things would be okay and we’d be happy and perfect again. I thought we’d be like that every day after. I was wrong. I was so very wrong. Sometimes I wonder if you were like that that night because you knew you were going to leave. I wonder if you wanted me to feel loved one last time before you left. It doesn’t matter anymore, but I’ll always wonder.

               That was the last good night we ever had. You left only days later. You left me with so many questions. You left me broken. You broke me along with every promise you’d ever made in the nine months we’d been in each other’s lives. In the weeks we’ve been apart, I’ve missed you almost more than anything. I’ve gone from wanting you back to never wanting to speak to you again approximately 21 times. In the time we’ve been apart, I’ve cried and screamed and wanted nothing more than to make you feel the pain you made me feel. But I’ve also smiled and laughed and wanted nothing more than to thank you for everything you’ve done, good and bad. In the time we’ve been apart, you’ve kissed multiple other girls while I’ve still got the taste of your lips on my mouth. You now have a new girlfriend not even a month after leaving me. You no longer want me back. You want nothing to do with me. Our future has vanished into thin air just like the boy I used to know and love.

 That is why I’m writing this to you. You hurt me worse than anyone ever has, and that’s why I’m writing this. I’m writing this so I can finally let go of the good times. You gave me the best times of my life, but also the worst. You showed me not everyone is the same, but some people are much worse than others. You showed me the truth about who you are. The boy who gave me all of those good days was just a dream.

You no longer care for me and I don’t know if you ever did. But I’m writing this to you so I can finally let you go. You do not want to speak to me again, and that’s okay. I’m okay. Our future is gone. It never happened. It was a dream, just like you.

 I wish you the best in life. I am glad you finally got what you wanted. I apologize for not being enough for you. I apologize, also, for all of the wrong things I’ve done. But you’ve done wrong, too. Do not forget that. I will end with this: I do love you still. But one day, when you look back and remember what we had, I will no longer be here. You taught me what I’m worth, and I thank you for that. I will find better one day. So thank you.

               March 11, 2016: The Day that Never Came.

An Open Letter to the One I Miss the Most

An Open Letter to the One I Miss the Most

               I haven’t seen you since June of 2010. I don’t remember the exact day, but I remember the exact day you left. I remember the exact day you went away to a better place; a place I could not follow. I remember the last time we spoke was only a few days before, but the last time I heard your voice was months before even then. I don’t remember your voice anymore. I don’t remember what it was like to visit your family and always look forward to seeing you most. I don’t remember because since the last day I saw you, I’ve always dreaded visiting your family. I dread it because I know when I enter that house, you will not be there. Your beautiful daughter is there, and she resembles you so well. It breaks my heart to see her there without you. I dread it because I know when I enter that house, I will see your high school yearbook pictures on the walls staring back at me.

               The fact that I can no longer remember the sound of your voice, your giddy laugh, the feel of your embrace when we’d hug after not seeing each other in months, or the way you could bring joy to any room you entered… it kills me. There are nights when I would give up everything I have just to be able to call you one last time and hear your voice tell me everything will be okay. The last time I talked to you was so long ago, and so much has changed since then. There have been so many nights when I’ve laid awake just wishing I could go back in time and change things. I still feel there’s something I could have done to stop it from happening; something I could have done to prevent you from going away. From leaving.

               You weren’t the first to leave, but you were the first to hurt that much. I remember the day. I remember being at my softball tournament. I remember the night before, I wanted to text you. I wanted to check in on you to see how things were because we hadn’t talked in maybe a week. I wanted to tell you how excited I was for my tournament, but I thought I would annoy you. I was afraid you’d think “why does my 12-year-old cousin text me so much?” Because what 24-year-old wants to hear from her 12-year-old cousin all the time? I remember wishing more than anything that I had pushed that thought aside and texted you anyway. I remember that day, my team winning our first game. I remember my coach saying we had an hour before the next, so my dad and I went home. I remember during the game he left the bleachers. I was in the outfield, so I saw him leave while on the phone. I remember not knowing who he was talking to. I thought nothing of it. I remember getting in the car, texting one of my teammates, and putting my phone back in my pocket. What I remember most is what my dad said not five minutes after being in the car together.

               Calmly, he says, “Your mother is going to Illinois for a few days to stay with her sister.”

               I think she’s going because her and my dad are fighting again. I say, “Oh, why?”

               He says, “Was Deana your cousin or what was she?”

               He uses past tense. That doesn’t register with me at first until I respond with, “She’s my cousin, why?” When I use present tense, I realize he uses past. Then the worst thought possible hits me.

               To this day, I cannot remember word for word what my father says at this part in the story, but here is what I think he says.

               He says something like, “Deana died last night.” My whole world comes crashing down.

               I remember this was the moment when I truly broke for the first time. I had witnessed people die in front of my face before. I had been to countless funerals in my 12 years of life. I had lost beloved pets to disease and murder before. Nothing hurt like this. People talk about their first heartbreaks with boys or girls. My first heartbreak was you. My first heartbreak was losing the one person who was truly always there for me. The one relative I had that I could always count on. My first heartbreak was my beautiful Deana Marie Garrison passing away on June 26, 2010.

               I remember the rest of the day. I remember crying all the way home, my dad trying to tell me to calm down, and me epically failing. I wailed. I had never cried like that before. I remember practically screaming my lungs out. I remember getting home, walking in the door, and seeing my two younger sisters and my mother come to greet me. Both of my sisters were bawling, my mom just looked sad. I had somewhat stopped crying by then. My mom looked at me as if I was so fragile I would break if I took one more step into the house. I didn’t say a word. I put my softball things down and just waited for the next game. I remember going back to the field. All I could think was, “Win this for her.” We didn’t win.

               It was our last game. When we lost, girls on my team cried. I was so angry with them. All I could think was, “Crying over a game? My cousin just died, and you’re crying because you lost a softball game.” I wanted to leave so badly. As soon as my dad and I left the field, we went home so my mother could take my sisters and I with her to Illinois. On the drive, I didn’t speak. I just stared. I stared out the window of the passenger seat of the Explorer until we reached my Aunt Deedee’s house. This was my dad’s sister. I remember my sisters and I were to stay with her for the night while my mom went to her sister’s house to help prepare for the funeral the next day.

               I don’t remember most of what happened the rest of that night. I only remember my mom calling my sisters and I before bed and telling us that she would pick us up before the funeral the next day. She mentioned that she was going to the viewing before that, and I begged her to let me go. I was closer to Deana than either of my sisters, so my mom let me. I had never been to the viewing before a funeral before, and I haven’t since, but what I saw was not what I imagined. I promised I would keep myself together and not cry at the viewing, but I remember looking at her for the first time. The last person I ever imagined seeing in a coffin, looking so peaceful and still. So lifeless. You were so lifeless, yet so beautiful.

               In that moment, I knew my life would never be the same. I knew I had lost the one person who would have gotten me through everything. I lost my best friend. I lost you. I began to cry again, so I walked away. I couldn’t handle seeing all of that beauty lying there without a pulse. After the viewing, there was the funeral. My mom and I drove back to my Aunt Deedee’s house to pick my sisters up. They asked me about the viewing as if it was some kind of party. I was crying. I couldn’t speak. We got to the funeral. There were so many people. So many people crying everywhere. The worst part? I was crying worse than your mother. I shouldn’t have been crying worse than her, I knew that wasn’t fair. I just couldn’t help it. Seeing you lying there destroyed me. It broke my heart time and time again for the next few hours. I sobbed until I could not breathe. I remember so many of my family members comforting me. I know no one had ever seen me like that before. I had never seen me like that before.

               After the funeral, I was still crying and sniffling. My Aunt Jenni took me with her and my cousin Kayleigh back to her house. There’s so much from that day which I still don’t remember.

               June 26, 2010 was the worst day of my life. It was the day I had my heart broken for the first time. And Lord, people are right when they say the first heartbreak is the worst. My heart was broken for the first time on that day five-and-a-half years ago. It has never truly healed. Since you left, so many things have happened. My heart has been broken twice. I’ve made so many terrible choices. So many mistakes. I’ve been so lost. I’ve felt so much pain, but I’ve also felt so much joy. You’ve missed so much.

               I went to my first Paramore concert a few months after you left. The one you were supposed to take me to. Your sister took me; I didn’t have as much fun as I would have with you. I got to meet Hayley’s boyfriend, though. Now they’re married, which is amazing. I’ve also seen them three other times since then. Their shows are wonderful. Magical. I wish you could’ve seen one before you left.

               I fell in love for the first time. It was beautiful. I was only fourteen, but I thought he was so perfect. I was so very wrong. He was the first person to teach me what people are capable of. I learned of the lies people could tell, the secrets they could keep. I learned not everyone should be trusted. I learned I was better off alone.

               I made some very bad choices. I turned to the worst ways to cope with my pain. I destroyed myself for the longest time. I needed you. I needed you more than ever. I begged for you to come back. Come home. I needed you to save me. I thought you heard me crying for you. I thought you sent me my blessing.

               I fell in love again. This was my blessing from you, I thought. I believed you had sent him to me to help me through my darkest days. After all, his birthday is the day you left. Wasn’t that your sign? He got me through the worst times in my life. He made me a better person. He made me fall in love again. He made me realize the first time wasn’t real. But I believed that the second time, with him, was. I thought he was the blessing you had sent me, but he turned out to be a lesson. Was that your intent this whole time? I hurt so much for so long. If you sent him to me to teach me a lesson, he taught me many. And I am so thankful.

               In the five years you’ve been gone, so much has happened. I wish you were still here. I still cry for you at least once a week. I miss you more than ever right now. You grow up believing that when someone dies, you move on. You get over it. That’s not always true. When you finally lose the one person who meant the most to you, it stays with you forever. I may be 18 now, but the pain I felt when I was 12 still lives with me in my heart every single day. I miss you more than words can ever say. I know you’re with me when I need you, but I still feel so alone sometimes. I know you’re in a better place now, and I hope to meet you again someday. I know I will. And when that day comes, there’s so much I want to tell you.

Thank you for never truly leaving me.

I love you, Deana Marie Garrison.

An Open Letter to the One Who Hurt Me Most

               Dear You,

               You know who you are. You’re the one who told me you loved me. You’re the one who told me we were soulmates, meant to be, future husband and wife. You told me one day I’d be your Mrs.; little did I know that was all a lie. Little did I know that you would be the one who would hurt me most.

               What did you do, exactly? Let me tell you. You made me fall in love with you. That is the first thing you did. Before you, I hadn’t been in love in over a year. I finally had my walls built up, actively not letting anyone in. When I met you, that all changed. I let those walls come crumbling down almost instantly. When I met you, I thought you would be the one to prove to me not all guys are the same. You did. You proved to me not all guys are the same by proving to me that some guys can be worse than others.

               How did you do that? You made me trust you. You made me believe I was the only one. For so many months, I thought I was the only one you wanted. I thought I was the only one you called beautiful, the only one you FaceTimed every night, the only one you called baby or said “I love you” to. I trusted you, and I was so very wrong to do so.

               Why was I so wrong to trust you? Because of what you did to me. What you did to other girls. You lied to all of us. I wasn’t the only one. You had so many. For six months, there were so many other girls. With every social media app you possibly could have, you talk to other girls. Facebook, Instagram, and my favorite, Snapchat. Snapchat, the app for cheaters. You called me crazy and creepy for looking at the little score on your Snapchat to see how many other girls you sent Snaps to. The same ones you’d send to me. You called me crazy and creepy for looking to see when you were last on Facebook because I knew you were ignoring me. I wasn’t crazy or creepy. I just knew who you were. I knew the kind of person you were. You were a liar. A cheater. My worst fear.

               You were my greatest dream turned into my worst nightmare. I should have known from the start, when I first heard about you because of your girlfriend cheating on you. I knew who she was, but I had no idea who you were. You were just some kid that lived in a little town in Michigan only 30 minutes away from LaPorte. Your girlfriend at the time was a girl I had known since seventh grade, and I had hated her almost all of the years I’d known her. I heard she was cheating on you, so I looked you up. I saw your pictures and posts about her and thought, “Wow, she doesn’t deserve him. He seems like a great guy.” How wrong I was. I should’ve left it at that. I never should have added you or talked to you. I knew nothing good ever came from her or the people she dated. But I couldn’t help myself. Something pulled me towards you.

               I felt something pull me to you, and I wish I hadn’t listened to that feeling. I let you destroy me for six months. You lied to me, you played me, you cheated on me, you even got back together with her and lied to me about it. You tried getting me back while you were dating her. You cheated on her with me and I had no idea you were even dating her. You told me you loved me. But you don’t do that to the person you claim to love.

               I tried to move on with someone else. I started to. I really liked the person I was talking to. The only things that kept me from completely moving on were that I knew I was still in love with you (you were trying so hard to prove you had changed), and the fact that I knew in the long run it wouldn’t work out with the person I was talking to. So what did I do? I believed you. I gave you the chance. I broke that person’s heart for you. I took you back. Because I made the mistake of having faith that people can change.

               People can’t change. You can’t change a person. A person can only change if they truly want to. You didn’t want to. You may have put up a good front, but I knew underneath you didn’t want to change. You didn’t change. We got back together, and for a little while you treated me better than you ever had. You flaunted me to the world. We didn’t fight as much. You made me feel loved and wanted for once in my life. Like I was the only one for you. But then things got bad again.

               When I say things got bad, I mean we started fighting more and more. You stopped doing the things you did when we first got back together. You stopped making me feel loved and wanted. I began to think there was someone else yet again. I thought you were going back to your old ways. You hated that I didn’t trust you. You would get so angry with me when I asked about another girl or went on your phone or acted suspicious of anything. I couldn’t calmly ask you a simple question about anything without you freaking out at me. That put up so many red flags for me. Every fight made me more worried. And then I saw the texts between you and that girl. That was when my trust shattered again. Completely.

               I had caught you yet again, but you still denied any wrong doing. So I let it go as much as I could. But I was still worried. I was so suspicious of the two of you. And then we broke up. When we broke up, only four days later you began talking to her. You hung out on Valentine’s Day. You kissed her Lord knows how many times. You hung out at your house and cuddled and did things with her around your family the way we had. You treated me like I never meant anything to you. You basically left me for her. Which made me believe you had been with her while we were still together. That hurt me more than words can ever describe.

               You told me on Friday that the two of you are no longer talking, but I have finally let you go. Two weeks of being without you, trying to get you back while you were talking to someone else, it made me realize I’m worth more than that. For the last two weeks, you hurt me more than you did in the entire nine months I’ve known you. I was never good enough for you. Now that I know you also physically cheated on me with a girl from your school when we were back together, I have let you go. I have learned that the way you treated me and made me feel for the last nine months is not a way I want to be treated by the person I love. It is not how I want to spend my life. I do not deserve that, I deserve someone who’s loyal and will do his best to always make me feel like his queen. You neglected to do that. You just didn’t care. So I’m letting you go.

               I’m letting you go, and I know you probably don’t care. You probably already are talking to someone new. I wouldn’t put it past you. I know I never meant anything special to you. So I am letting you go. I know my worth, I know what I deserve, and it is much better than what I’ve been through in the last nine months. It may be hard to find better because for so long I thought there was no better than you, but now I know that there must be somewhere. So I will find it one day, and when that day comes I know you will realize that you gave up the greatest thing that will ever happen to you. You will not find a girl who loved you more than I did, or who would do anything for you like I would. But I wish you luck in trying. You will need it. I’m letting you go now.  Thank you for all the wonderful memories, and thank you for teaching me so many things.

               With love forever, The Girl Who Will Find Better

An Open Letter to My Second First Love

An Open Letter to My Second First Love

(The One Who Truly Taught Me What I'm Worth)

               You left me. You left me when you said you never would. I don’t know why I was surprised. It’s happened countless times before. You left me when you said you never would, but it’s my fault for expecting you to keep that promise.

               What haunts me the most is all of the things you said. For nearly nine months, you engrained into my brain the thought that I had finally found the one I was meant to be with. My soulmate. You engrained thoughts of marriage, family, pets, careers, and all of these tiny, little things I had dreamed of since I was a child. You made me believe wholeheartedly that my dreams would one day become reality! With you…

               With you, I felt like I owned the world. I felt like no one could ever bring me down. I felt that no matter what disaster tried to destroy me, as long as I was in your arms I was safe. Little did I know, the one who I saw as my protection from destruction was the one who would destroy me. You were the world to me, and with a few simple words on a bright little screen, you made that world come crashing down. All at once…

               All at once, it was as if nothing we had ever meant anything to you. For so many long months, you had me convinced that you loved me and wanted a future with me. You told me we were meant to be. I believed you. Who wouldn’t believe the one they love when they say that? Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe you never meant it. For nine months, you had me convinced you meant every word. But only days after you left, you had moved on with someone else. So did you ever really mean it? Or did you mean it up until just a few weeks ago? I guess I’ll never know.

               I told you what haunts me the most, now I’ll tell you what hurts me the most. What hurts the most is the fact that you’re already with someone else. Or you were, apparently. Not even four days later you had someone else. You threw everything we had for nine months away like it was nothing. You made me feel like trash. You should never treat the one you claim to love like they’re the gum you scrape off the bottom of your nice, new Nikes.

               You should never treat the one you claim to love like they’re less than your nice pair of shoes. When a girl feels like you care about your 20 pairs of Nikes more than her, there’s something wrong. When a girl feels like she is less than perfect for you, there is something wrong. When you belittle the one you “love” because she has flaws which you don’t understand, there is something wrong.

               My love, you made me feel like I was not worth anyone’s time of day. You convinced me that every other girl on the planet was worth your time over me. A girlfriend should never in her life feel like her boyfriend prefers the attention of other girls over her. She should feel loved and cared for, not worthless and unwanted. You taught me that. I will not go into detail of the things you did to make me hate myself, because we both know we’ve been over it a thousand times. You just never understood. So I will not repeat it.

What I will say is thank you. Thank you for teaching me what I’m worth. Thank you for the things you did to/for me, right and wrong. Thank you for making me feel like I was on top of the world just to bring me down to the bottom. Thank you for making me realize that it’s not the words a person says, but the actions they perform that matter. Thank you for renewing my love for basketball. Thank you for teaching me what it’s like to truly love someone, and showing me how someone I love should not treat me. Thank you for helping me make peace with my first first love. You may have been my real first love, but what you did to me made me realize at least he acted like I mattered to him. So thank you, for everything. For creating the most amazing memories of my life so far, and the worst. Thank you for helping me through the worst times in my life, even if most were because of you. Thank you for making me a better person, and reminding me that I’m not worthless, I’m priceless.

I hope we meet again someday. When we’re older, wiser, happier. I hope we meet again someday, and who knows. We may be meant for each other, or we may be happily in our own relationships with better people. I hope we meet again someday, because despite everything you did to hurt me, I will always believe you were the right person. Just the wrong time. I will believe that until the day I am proven wrong.

Thank you.