I should start the letter with the phrase “Dear ____”, but for some reason I can’t even think of using a term of endearment for you. It would be a blasphemy to do that.
We were together for six full years. Going back now I can see why some mistakes were made. We were young, impulsive and we thought we knew everything. I planned a future with you. A future of us together in a house with a white picket fence. You chasing our kids in the yard while I am barefoot and pregnant and in the kitchen. And this is the dream of the introverted girl who is afraid of heights and closed spaces, who hates being in crowds and who doesn’t like to be touched. The dream of the girl who was never picked first, who was always in the shadows, never getting invited to birthdays and get-togethers. The girl who was always put last and who has commitment issues. I really thought I would get my happily ever after with you. That, as silly as my dreams may seem, they’ll become reality. But as time passed I realized that some dreams become nightmares.

I can’t say with certainty that you loved me or didn’t love me. That is the part that hurts the most. That after all this time, I don’t know if those were real feelings or something that you faked.

To be honest, I never wanted to break up with you. I mean I did and I didn’t at the same time. I was a coward. I didn’t want to be alone and I depended on you for everything, so losing you would have meant losing my safe place. On the other hand, sometimes I wonder how I managed to make it for so long. The phrase “Love is blind” is something that describes our situation perfectly. For me you were the perfect boyfriend, calling the appropriate number of times, discussing plans with me, making me breakfast. But deep down I knew something was wrong. All those early nights. You being seen at different places with other friends who were girls. You being distant. You making decisions and not including me in them. Asking for money and never giving it back. Those are just some of the things that were wrong in the whole equation. The warning signs were there all along.

I remember waking up after we were already broken up. It was a gloomy morning and I was not a happy camper. I was late for school, I forgot I had an appointment, I was almost run over by a car. By the time it was time to go home, I just wanted to crawl up in bed and not get up until this decade was over. Usually after a long and tiresome day, you were there. I could go on and on for hours about what happened and how frustrated I was. And like the doting boyfriend that you were, you’d listen. That day I came home to an empty apartment. My roommate wasn’t there. I was all alone. It was too quiet. And the silence was painful. I suddenly couldn’t breathe, I was chocking up. Tears were streaming down my face. I was all alone. I had to eat alone, fix my problems alone, I had to be my safe heaven and my own hero. And before I met you I was. I was a different person. I like to think I was a better person. You destroyed me, that little self-confidence I had was gone completely by the time you broke up with me that first time. You made me doubt myself, my abilities. You made me believe I am a bad person. You’d drag me to parties with you, making me drink and trying to get me to have a little fun, as you’d say. When while there all I could think about were the people around me. Thinking how I need to control myself so I don’t have a panic attack. You would belittle me about the way I dressed. Telling me that if I didn’t start wearing the things you liked, you’d break up with me. And I was scared. I am now the owner of short skirts, revealing tops and heels that I can’t walk in. All because I was afraid of being alone. I lost myself. And that is something that I am as responsible as you are.

Now, after so much time apart, I am thriving. I eat what I want, I exercise when I want, I wear what I am comfortable in. I found out that I like wearing crop tops, but not short skirts. I found my style. A style that is as unique as I am. I take photographs, I paint, I knit, I cook, I do things that make me happy. Things that allow me to feel. You might think that I’ll get back with you. And when I feel lonely and sorry for myself, I do think that i’ll forgive you for the mental torture and painful comments. I still find excuses for your behavior even after all this time. But even with that, I am a stronger person, a stronger me. I am happy with my imperfect self, with being “ordinary”. So you may think what you want. For the first time in my life I know I deserve better. I deserve to be treated with respect, to be loved for who I am and not for who I might be. I need someone by my side who is going to accept me and my flaws. Who will love me in spite of my moody behavior and quirkiness. You are not that person. I love you, I really do. I hope you wake up one day and realize what you lost. I hope you feel the same despair I did. And I hope you realize that you’ll never have me again.

“The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.” Just remember that. (And yes I did use a Mulan quote, cause I am awesome like that)