When I met you, you were like a breath of fresh air. Before you, there was a boy who treated me very badly and almost convinced me that I was not worthy of being loved, but then you came into my life when I was least expecting it and showed me what love meant. You showed me your best façade—a nice, funny, and affectionate young man who always wanted to see me. It made me feel so special.
I was on Cloud 9 because I finally knew what being loved and desired meant. I felt on top of the world, and everything was beautiful again. I loved spending time with you more than anyone else. I loved lying in bed with you and talking about anything and everything. I loved when you texted me first in the morning. I loved coming to your house after work and seeing how happy you were to see me. I loved supporting you at your hockey games—you used to always look at me when you shot and scored.
You were honest and sincere with me. You made me feel special when you told me you never loved anyone like you loved me. You made me feel special when you told me I was the prettiest girl you ever dated. You made me feel special when I was the first girl you introduced to your parents after a long time of being single. You made me feel special when you showed everyone we were together and you were proud.
But then one day, you changed your mind. You stopped looking at me with stars in your eyes. You changed my life one Monday afternoon when you told me you needed space to find yourself—an excuse that meant you didn’t want to be with me anymore.
For a long time, I carried a weight with your name on it. After our breakup, you banned me from your life and acted like I never existed. You didn’t even want to see me to get your stuff back. I never banned anyone from my life, so I have difficulty understanding how you could love someone so much and then act like they never existed, but I guess I’ll never understand.
I woke up every morning with the thought of you until I slowly let go and your face became faded in my memory.
After all of this, I don’t hate you, not even the slightest. Actually, I feel sorry for you because happy people don’t hurt others. I’m at peace right now, and I’ve never felt more positive, and the thought of hurting someone just like that repulses me. I know that you hide your insecurities under your party boy façade that seems to care about nothing, but I want you to know that I don’t hate you and I never will.
If I see you in the streets, I will gladly say hi, but will you do the same? I don’t know.