You are allowed to hate him for dating someone else or for placing you second — even though he doesn’t belong to you, even though you were never an official couple, even though he’s under no obligation to protect your feelings.
You are allowed to feel your heart sink into your stomach when he posts a picture with his ex-girlfriend, when you send him a text and he forgets to respond, when you watch his snap story and see that he was out partying with a group of girls prettier than you.
You are allowed to get jealous when he tells you about his newest celebrity crush or brags about the last person he slept with. You are allowed to be jealous of the way that he stares at other girls and how many numbers he has on his phone.
You are allowed to feel self-conscious when he doesn’t like one of your Instagram photos or when he sees your new haircut and doesn’t comment on how nice it looks. You are allowed to feel ugly when you catch him flirting with some other girl with perfect brows who weighs less than you do.
You are allowed to be pissed at him for canceling plans and waiting too long to text back. You are allowed to be pissed at him for coming to you with all of his problems and telling you what a good friend you are, but failing to realize what a catch you are and how you two belong together.
You are allowed to be annoyed when he doesn’t understand your hints. When you make it obvious that you like him by dressing up for him and asking him on dates, but he still thinks you are only being friendly.
You are allowed to care about him, even if you barely know him. Even if he’s a bit of an asshole. Even if he doesn’t care about you at all.
You are allowed to cry your eyes out when he starts dating another girl. When you realize that you missed your chance and that you two are never going to be together.
You are allowed to wonder if you should have told him how you felt earlier. If you should have kissed him that day you were alone together. If you should have asked him, point blank, to be your boyfriend.
You are allowed to feel stupid about being so upset over someone who was never even yours. You are allowed to be embarrassed over how many tissues you have used, over how many weekends you’ve spent cooped up in your room — but you shouldn’t be.
Because you are allowed to be upset over your broken heart. Even if you were never his girlfriend. Even if you were never even his friend.
You are allowed to feel the way you feel. You are allowed to mourn the loss of a boy that never even belonged to you.