Dear You,

for a while when we broke up i pretended you had died. i pretended that you were in a horrific car accident and that nobody was allowed to talk about you. i was allowed to leave class whenever i wanted because i was in grieving about my dead boyfriend.

it wasn’t until you were tagged in a photo, kissing some blonde babe that i realised you weren’t dead, you just didn’t want me anymore. i obsessed over you, you were my first love. i called and called and texted all the time and looking back i wish i played my cool and that you saw me differently.

it took me many years to get over you. and by many i mean 5. and i shouldn’t have when i kept coming back to you because you wanted someone to sleep with. i shouldn’t have cheated on my next boyfriend with you. i shouldn’t have harassed your next girlfriend to the point she hated me. i should have just let you go and learnt from what you taught me.

you taught me that no matter how much you way a guy to like you. they won’t until they are good and ready. i have learnt to be myself in relationships. and that your 30 second sessions you gave me were NOTHING to what else is out there

peace out fatboy. your number one fan (and last fan) has now left the building.