You Ruined The Best Part Of Me, And I Can Never Forgive You For That


You’ve made me the man I am today. You may not see it that way, but it’s true. A large part of who I am at this very moment is a direct result of my experience with you. Part of me thanks you for that; part of me hates you for it; part of me still can’t decide which side of the fence I’m on.

Some people thought you were my first love. Hell, I thought you were my first love. It wasn’t until I actually fell in love with someone that I realized whatever it was I felt for you wasn’t love; it was infatuation, and nothing more.

In the four months since we last spoke, I have grown into a completely different person in so many aspects of my life that are, once again, a direct result of you. It wasn’t until a few nights ago that one of my closest friends indirectly pointed it out, but the truth hurt so much that is impossible to deny.

I’ve become a colder person, one who is more jaded and cynical. Now, that’s not to say that I am an emotionless monster, but I my outlook on things — mainly people — have changed, considerably. You ruined the best part of me.

I had a good heart; no, a great heart. That’s not a conceited thing to say; and if it is, well then, I’m fine with it. I prided myself on being someone who always saw the good in people; someone who always tried to make the best of a situation; someone who tried to understand; someone who tried, period.

You ruined that.

When I wanted to be with you and you didn’t want to be with me, I understood and accepted that. When you kissed me (repeatedly) over the course of months, with no intention of anything else happening, all the while knowing that I wanted more, I forgave you. Even though you’ve said that you’ve thought about it, your actions never implied it. Whether the lie was intentional or not, it was still a lie; and I still forgave you.

You may have ruined the best part of me, but you did not ruin me. I would never give your ego the satisfaction of thinking that. At my core, I’m still the guy who is going to say hello to your mother and sincerely inquire about what your family is doing. I’m still the guy who would take your brother to a Yankees-Red Sox game just because I know how he loves (and I hate) the Sox. I’m still the guy who thinks your father is one of the funniest (and scariest) guys around.

You haven’t ruined all of me; or a majority of me; or even a fraction of me; but you did ruin the best part of me. It can, and likely will be rehabilitated in time, but it will never be as pure as it was. It will always be tainted, damaged; and for that, I can never forgive you.
I’m not naïve enough to think that you won’t see this.

I’m sure you won’t be happy with what you’ve read, but that’s really not my problem. Like my friend telling me the other day that I’ve changed, the truth is a harsh reality, and we all deal with it differently.

You know every way to reach me — where I live, where I work, what my number is, where I hang out — so it won’t be hard to seek me out. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but knowing how small our town is, the odds show that it will likely happen eventually. So take it how you want, but I’m not sorry if you’re pissed; because, you see, you had your shots… and damn it, girl, you missed. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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Mike is a New York-based writer and admitted hopeless romantic. If Ted Mosby and Carrie Bradshaw had a son, it would be him. When he’s not writing about love, dating, and relationships, he’s working his actual job as a sports reporter and columnist.

Tune into his podcast, “Heart Of The Matter” here.

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