To my ex, 
I would ask how you’ve been, but I really don’t care anymore. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I’m not sure what’ll happen if I ever see you again; whether the butterflies will magically reappear or an anvil will drop to my stomach.
I regret ever meeting you. I was so young and you knew better, but that didn’t stop you. I’m still trying to accept that nothing you did to me was my fault. 
Four years later, I’m still so young. But you gave me a lifetime of pain. 
I’m so jealous of you. I can’t imagine a life without fearing you. I look out for you in suspicious Instagram accounts and when I create new profiles on the internet. My eyes catch innocent bystanders who look like you on the street. I can’t bring myself to run out in the open in my neighborhood anymore, not after seeing your white car on the road.
I’m usually good with my words. But words don’t do justice for what you did to me. I still feel your hands wrapped around my mouth trying to “shut me up”. I remember “Listen, I’m sorry for yelling at you.” “Let me inside now.” “You can’t handle a little pain?” “I’ll kill myself if you leave me.” “This is what relationships are like.” 
I wish you knew you were a rapist, assaulter, abuser, whatever you want to call it. I wish I could be the one to tell you, to watch as remorse moves across your face like a shadow when you realize how much trouble you’re in. I say that because I know you’d never feel guilty for what you’ve done- you’d just find some harebrained way to shift the blame on me. 
You’re the reason I hold grudges. I don’t forgive and forget anymore, I never forget. And as much as I want to, I’ll never forget you. 
Goodbye. I hope I never see you again.