An Open Letter To The Boy Who Broke My Heart When He Didn’t Even Have It

To the boy that somehow managed to break my heart when I never even gave it to you. How did you do it?

Was it easy to turn away your back? Did it make you happier when you cut me off? I mean you wouldn’t be that type of guy would you?

Time usually flies by quickly every year, but it somehow went incredibly slow because of how much I thought about you. For an overwhelming amount of time, you were the last thing that I thought about at night, and you were the first lingering thought in the morning. Somehow you managed to float in and out of my head during classes at school. Do you realize how much I thought of you?

I guess it was silly of me to think so much on it, perhaps it was just a silly little crush, like the ones that we made fun of in elementary school. Although to me, it could have been so much more because I know you believed it too.

Don’t ever forget the jokes I made with you, and don’t ever lie that I never made you smile. Don’t you dare ever say that you haven’t fallen for me as well because we both know it happened. You and I both watched it collide right in front of our eyes. During a few months, we laughed, we teased. We even helped each other improve to be the best we could possibly be through various activities, but…how did that stop? There was no more talking and no more laughing. We soon never even acknowledged each other’s presence. The only thing left was our awkward eye contact as we slowly passed each other in school occasionally. The conversations I started were shoved aside and the jokes I cracked were ignored. It was like this for months. It was hard to adapt to, but it really struck when I knew you moved on…more than once.

Looking, hearing or seeing anything about you has gone to an extent of hurting me. I can’t read certain things and I can’t go to certain places without having the faintest reminder of you in the back of my mind. I can’t even blame you for that, it’s just my own emotions taking over me, engulfing me. Probably over-dramatic right? Maybe it’s because of how much I craved and longed for your glances, just so you could notice how I looked that day or how you noticed the smile that used to light you up so quickly.

It was never about the 80’s I learned in history class or the units of functions I learned about in math. It was you that became the best lesson in my entire sophomore year. You not loving me was the beginning of me wanting myself.

Thank you for teaching me to love myself first.