9/11/15
We talked a little bit more that weekend, all things I think we needed to say but none of it extremely significant.
One of the last things I texted to you was this:
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be in a place where I can be your friend again, but I really truly want you to know I’m here for you. I don’t want you to think I’m belittling what you’re going through at all, but I know how tough and dark and horrible and lonely and shitty heartbreak is, so I’m here if you want or need me, and I mean that 100%. Please please try not to cut or burn or anything else along those lines. You have so many people on your team, and too many people that love you for you to be ding that. You are too great and have stayed strong for too long.”
I meant those words then, and I will always mean them. I am no longer in love with you, and I don’t think I have been in a long time. But I will always love you, appreciate you, respect you, and want the best for you. You were my first love, you taught me that love truly does exist as a force more than something in Nicholas Sparks movies, and I’m forever grateful to you for that. I still hear Mayday Parade songs in my head when I think of you, and not the stereotypical sad ones either, but the earlier, lesser known happier ones. When I picture us I think of that picture Rory took outside of Virginia Hall in September 2012, you in the sunglasses that are now in my car, me with my freshly dyed red hair and Hogwarts tee shirt. If I ever have a daughter and she asks me about my first love, I will tell her about a dark haired boy with kind eyes, a boy who wore beat up converse and rode horses, a biology major with a sensitive soul and an amazing taste in music.
I started writing these letters two years ago so when we finally got back together you could read them and you would know what happened to me, you would know what you put me through. Now, I’m not sure if you will ever get a chance to read these; in fact, I’m pretty confidant you never will. But that’s alright. Because I’ve realized these were never meant for you, but always for me, to learn and to grow and to heal. In two days it will mark the anniversary of exactly three years since the day we started dating. Three years since I told you I wanted to be with you no matter how hard it would be, and I kissed you next to the fountain outside of my freshman dorm. I am so proud of how far I have come from the girl I used to be back then. You may never get to know the woman I am today, you may never understand how much I’ve grown. And that’s equally a shame, but also just fine.
Two years ago Grace showed me a blog written by a broken woman. In her very last entry, she thanks the man who broke her, “Thank you for setting me free.” I remember reading it and thinking, “I can’t even imagine being ok enough to feel that way.” I am ok now. I may not be the happiest person in the world, but I truly am alright. So thank you. Thank you, Dean. Thank you for your love, thank you for your abandonment, thank you for your friendship. Thank you for what each of these things taught me, how they pushed me to move on with my life, and how they molded me into a person I can finally say I respect and am proud of.
Thank you for setting me free ❤️













