It’s been a while.
I still have so much anger built up towards you, not completely for what you did, but mostly for lying to me. I expressed concern about rumors that you were asking for nudes from my best friend and that you asked that girl out on a date. I knew that it was all true, and I asked you if you had done those things. I said that I wouldn’t be mad if you told me the truth, but instead of telling me what I already knew, you denied it. You denied it and told me you loved me. Hearing those words come out of your mouth followed by “I love you” broke my heart more than I thought hearing you admit it would. I felt my heart breaking. Aching. I almost thought it ceased beating for a moment.
I ended things a few days after, because I slowly realized I deserved someone who cherished me and made me feel wonderful inside.
One of the things that hurt me most, I think, was that you turned everyone against me. You told everyone I was lying and she was lying and the girl you asked out was lying. You denied it and called me crazy. You made me feel like it was my fault and that I was the one who caused all of this, when in reality, your one inch wonder was the one calling all the shots. You didn’t think to even consider how all of that might make me feel (once I found out from someone else, of course). People called me crazy because you had convinced them that I was the one who imagined all of it.
One thing you didn’t know about, though, was the screenshots and proof I had. I didn’t tell anyone about that though, because I figured I would take all the blame and you could keep your precious cool kid reputation, because I was still so hurt and I thought that if I fought you, you would make up more bad things about me.
So, I kept quiet. I didn’t realize how damaging that would be though.
I have a boyfriend now who loves me and cares about me. More than you were ever capable of. He’s the one who tucked me into his bed when I had been too drunk to function because I drank and kept drinking only because I blamed myself for what you did. He tucked me into his bed and looked after me when I thought no one would.
I’m not sure if you remember (or care), but you and I had this wonderful vision of what our future would be like together, but I think neither of us actually thought it would come true. We kept reminding each other of the vision we had, I think, to keep our relationship alive. It’s almost as if towards the end, it was the vision that was keeping us together and it was clear that the love we seemed to have for each other wasn’t what bound us together.
I packed your shirts, jewelry you bought me, as well as the love letters and other trinkets that have memories of you attached to them away in a box. I taped this box shut really well because I knew that one day – knowing me, that day would be in a week – I would want to get your stuff out again, buy some ice cream, and cry while I read all the lovely things you wrote. But you know what? I packed your stuff away around about a month after we broke up, and since I’ve started in this new relationship, I’ve had no urges to get your shirts out and smell them like I used to. I’ve had no urges to get the love letters and pictures and look at them. I’ve had zero urges to wear any of the jewelry you bought me (after all, you had terrible taste anyway). That’s because he makes me so happy, I won’t even go into detail why he’s so wonderful because that would take me too long.
Just know that he’s more of a man than you could ever be.
(Plus, he’s way better in bed, I don’t have to fake it with him!)
I hope you someday find a girl that can make you happy enough that you don’t have to go asking other girls out on dates and that you don’t have to as her best friend for nudes. I hope she makes you happier than I did so that you don’t have to screw her over.
This is the final letter I will write, the final tear I will shed, and the final time you make your way into my thoughts.