I knew my life was going to change as soon as I saw you. We had an instant connection. I know that sounds cliché, I can barely believe it myself. But what I felt when our eyes met was something that I had never felt with any other guy before. We were both pretty young and we got ourselves into much more than either of us had ever anticipated. I spent the next couple of weeks just trying to get you to admit you liked me. I had had a feeling that you did from the get go. I mean, the first day I met you you kept stealing glances at me and I did the same to you.
After about a month of being friends, we decided to start dating. It was an innocent middle school relationship. We went to different schools, after all. I didn’t expect it to mean anything but I found myself glued to my phone hoping I’d have a text from you. I needed to talk to you. I was unsatisfied when I wasn’t.
After a while, the lack of face-to-face contact got old and I decided to break things off. It was no big deal to me. We weren’t even in high school yet. It wasn’t a relationship that was going to matter after a few weeks. But I soon found out that the break up made a difference to you. You isolated yourself from a few of your friends because you thought that they were the cause. That you weren’t good enough. Thankfully, you soon found out that wasn’t the case.
We soon began high school and we still didn’t see each other much. We had one class that was across the hall from each other. I guess that was enough for something to start back up between us because soon enough I was doing anything I could to get your attention. I wanted you to be mine again. We started dating again and it was wonderful. Except I had a job on the weekends and my life was far from perfect. I didn’t have time outside of school and I was doing anything I could to keep myself together during school.
I suffered from anorexia for three years. You didn’t know that and you couldn’t have. I wore baggy clothes and I didn’t talk about it with you. I wasn’t sure if I could. I became really distant with you and you could tell. But you were distant with me too. You were talking to other girls. They were filling in the gaps that I had left behind. The gaps that my hectic life and my job and my eating disorder were putting between us. You caved in.
I remember the day you broke up with me. You did it over text and you put a smiley face at the end. I wasn’t too upset. I was expecting it. It hurt a little though. It was just more that I had to deal with. After our second break up, my life went downhill. I dropped 15 pounds. I didn’t sleep. My arms and legs were red almost all the time. I had to change my wardrobe so I wouldn’t bother anyone else with my problems. I was being called ugly. Fat. Slut. Whore. I was told to kill myself multiple times. It was horrible. But I soon recovered. I began a new sport, with a new coach who helped me. I developed a close relationship with one of my teachers. Those two adults together probably saved my life and they don’t know it.
Sophomore year started and so did our relationship. Third time’s a charm, right? It was wonderful. I loved you so so so much. I know that sounds ridiculous. How could a 16 year old know what love is? I did. I was willing to give you my all and you knew that. We didn’t go all the way, but we went pretty far. I let my guard down around you. You learned about my life after you broke up with me the year before. You regained my trust. I had never admired anyone as much as I admired you. But your life became stressful and you cracked under stress. I wasn’t as important to you as I thought I was. The third time wasn’t a charm. And this time, you broke me. You shattered me into a million pieces. I still haven’t found most of those pieces.
This time, you realized what you lost. You miss me and you’ve told several people. I miss you too. A lot. Seeing you kills me and you can see that it does. You’ve seen me have a breakdown in class because of you. I’ve told you all of my thoughts about you. I would love to go back to you. But, we can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep hurting me. I’ve lost so much of myself already and giving you the final parts of me sounds stupid. But, true love, right? Is true love even real? I thought it was at one point. Now I’m not so sure. You’ve made me doubt myself and I don’t know if I can give you the only pieces of myself that I have left this time.