Dear, Lionel.
And finally you showed me that your "I love you"s were fake.
Now you're with that conceited bastard who could never love you the way I did, do, and will.
You're so stupid that you could trust someone who shows their body to you, but not someone who would actually heal your deepest wounds.
You're a 12-year-old boy trapped in the body of an 18-year-old boy who I say is the love of my life.
Your actions are so immature that they are indescribable.
Who is she by my side? She hasn't even been able to hold back her pride for four years, seeing you so happy with so many girls, only for her to suddenly reappear in your life after we talk. So that in the end, you meet her last week and she's already the love of your life
I can't write my sadness down in a notebook for fear it will become permanently etched in my soul. I won't let it affect me so much that I can't eat for a month. Although this has already happened.
She will never know what it's like to cry because of your actions, to tremble with cold without really feeling it, to vomit, to scream desperately in silence, to be unable to eat due to anxiety and stress, the incredible body dysmorphia that can come from believing you are not enough.
She'll never feel the obsession I had and still have for you. You're incredibly stupid, but even so, I love you and would love you for the rest of my life if you'd let me.
It was beautiful imagining you welcoming me as a police officer, seeing you in uniform in my mind. Being there, applauding only for you, imagining our lives together... it's stupid, but I'm only 16. I don't deserve to go through what I went through when I was 12 because of you.
We're only 16 and 17 years old, you can't be so cruel.
I'm sure that at some point in our lives we'll make good on all the "I love you"s you told me at some point, just for my body and not for my love.
My love is still so real, even though I was 12. I know it's annoying to keep saying the same thing, but it was truly traumatic for me. He was the first person I was ever really in love with, my first kiss, my first hug, my first love, my first affection... but we were only 12 and 13 years old. Even at your young age, it was the same as it is now. It's cruel, but I don't think you've changed at all. I think it's something you made up to make me believe.
Even so, I think you were brave. Not just anyone could do that, not just anyone could risk so much. Wait, I don't think you say brave, I think it's idiotic, cowardly, or rather, a man-child.
Yes, you literally are that and you always have been.
But well, I'm also very stupid for believing that you had changed, because of the light in your almond-shaped eyes, your childlike smile, your tender laughter, your hugs, your voice, and your useless words that only filled a temporary space.
Your "I love you"s are sincere, but they come with an expiration date.
To anyone who's read this far, I'm truly grateful. I know it sounds silly, but I haven't talked to anyone about this. I know it seems pointless to write a post about this and have it seen by millions or no one, but I'm really waiting patiently for someone who can tell me they've also been through it and know how awful it is. It's silly, but I think it's a good way to cope with the pain, personally.
Even so, getting back to the main topic, I'd also like to thank Lionel, who has messed with my head every chance he got. I'd like to punch you in the face and laugh at you for thinking that's something you could be proud of. You're so stupid that you think ego is about people talking shit about you and you pretending it's not true. You want people to believe in you, but how can they believe in you when I've practically been talking to a stranger who never wanted to open his heart to me? I don't know your favorite food, your favorite color, or the name of your best friend, your mother, or your sisters. And it's not because I haven't tried to ask, it's just that you don't answer and you're not interested in answering, or even asking me anything. The most you've ever asked me is about intimacy, and for what purpose? In the end, you haven't kept any of your promises, not even in that respect. You're stupid, plain and simple. You have no friends, you're not loyal, your best friend doesn't even really care about you. Your life is a living hell disguised as a "full, relaxed life." Explain how humiliating it must be to feel superior just for having slept with every girl I know. Do you think that's funny? Do you think that's what it means to be someone in life? I'm telling you the truth, no. That's called being available to everyone. It's sad because if I or any other girl did that, we'd automatically be called sluts or worse, receive personal comments or ridicule.
Honestly, I'm not surprised, but I am truly disappointed. It's sad, because there's nothing worse in the world than realizing that the person who loves you most and values your fake efforts to change sees through you for who you really are. It's sad, it's humiliating, it's disappointing. Not for me, not for all the girls who have gone through this, but for you, man, who lets just anyone use her body to feel validated.
Through everything I wrote, I went through different stages, I was sad, depressed, then I remembered your eyes and everything seemed fine, but then I remembered that those beautiful eyes belong to a cruel teenager.
Maybe for you, unknown reader, person enduring all this nonsense, it's, I don't know, a waste of time, but is it really? I've been suffering through something they called "nonsense," "obvious," "Aleia, it was obvious that was going to happen," "Aleia, I'm surprised he hasn't ghosted you yet, he will." I mean, it's cruel for someone who fell madly in love with someone. Especially since I'll never be able to say why or what it is about him, Lionel. Apparently, I just love him. I don't know why, I don't know when it happened, I don't know why she does and I don't, why the same thing always happens to me with him. It's simply something I don't know, and maybe I never will.
Lionel, I hope that one of these days you see this. If not, I'll send it to you. You can read it if you're interested, and you'll see your name written on it. I don't care. You've meant so much to me, and I've given so much of myself, it just seems I didn't show it enough for you to really notice. Why can't you be with me? Because I'm your friend's ex? The one whose girlfriend you wouldn't mind being with, you told me so. Why? Because I'm not pretty enough? She's not pretty enough. I know who she is and what she's like, a person just like you. You both get along because you're both selfish and self-centered. Do you think I haven't seen all the guys she follows? To her, you'll always be just another guy she fell for, but not that much.
You? You're exactly the same. I sincerely hope you can never love each other. And I'm not ashamed to say it, it's not anger, I'm perfectly calm, but really, I hope she gets run over by a truck or something, just like you. Maybe that will soothe my pain and my love for you.
The funniest thing I've seen about her is that she's a total materialist. Someone who said, "I am the way I am because I'll always love you for what you have, not for who you are." You like that? Knowing you're poor? Wow, unbelievable. I've loved you with and without money; I could never do something like that. I loved you when you were saving up to go out. I bought you things so you couldn't say you had an empty stomach that day. Those gifts cost money. Money I saved working to buy you food, to keep you happy, even if just for a little while. And it's not that I'm angry about the money; I'm angry about your lack of empathy. Yes, I'm not poor, but I don't live well either, and you live the same way I do. You know how hard it is, and yet you prefer to spend money on someone who would never care a little about your situation? Don't say nobody warned you.
Okay, yes, I say this angrily, but believe me, if you were in my shoes, you'd understand. Maybe I am selfish and all, but what do I care? Because I have experienced true love, and I know this isn't it. But I trusted you. God knows how much I cried for you, for how happy I was to love you, for how strangely you acted, for your followers, for how badly you spoke about me, for how kindly you treated me, for the hours I spent without hearing from you, for not being able to stop loving you. And now I only cry because I know that once again, I lost. And you gained someone who will never love you like I did. So maybe, just maybe, I didn't lose. This time I won, and you lost.
This isn't over yet, it will never be over, because as long as I love you, this will continue to be a vicious cycle, where you constantly humiliate me, but now I choose to humiliate you.
Lionel, I love you but you're just a manchild.
I love you, Lionel. I hope you can grow up and realize how much a girl named Aleia loves you. A girl with a huge heart and spirit, who could give you the world if you would only choose to change your behavior, just a little. She's so funny, so entertaining, kind, sarcastic, silly, and poetic. I would introduce you to her; I think she's a very good girl for you, better than you are. It doesn't matter; she knows what she is, but I think she's too in love with you. Sometimes I hear her crying, hitting her head with her hands, crying because she doesn't want to fall back into the scars of addiction. Sometimes I look at her, and she can't eat. Her stomach, no matter how hungry she is and how much she growls, won't let her take a single bite. Her teeth hurt from clenching her jaw so much because of the stress and anxiety you caused her. She's developed a nervous tic in her face because of it. I heard her screams when there was no one home because nobody knows how much she loves you.
Her mother doesn't know why her stomach has been hurting so much lately, why she constantly feels like vomiting, why her face is so dull, why she doesn't laugh anymore. Why did you consume her so much, Lionel? Who are you? What kind of depression did you work on her? Why did you do this?
Lionel, she loves you. Aleia loves you.
Your beautiful chubby girl is waiting for you, with a drawing in her hand, remembering that silly nickname she likes so much and that you decided to give her. Although she's not really chubby, it's just you who sees her that way, or maybe she's just remembering all those nights she slept soundly, thinking of you. Thinking about what it would be like to hear you breathing in your sleep, if you talk in your sleep, if she could massage your soft, black hair. If one day she could hug that tall, slender body of yours.
It's not sad, it's disappointing.
I love u Lionel.
Aleia.
