An Open Letter to the Boy I Let Break My Heart... Yet Again.
Today is November 23rd, 2016. It’s currently 12:50 AM. This is the third time I’ve rewritten this letter. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be a bitch and send it to your mom’s house or not, so you could read it for yourself. Instead, I decided to use my blog for what it’s supposed to be used for -- blogging. So this is me, blogging about what you’ve done to me. Seven months ago, my second to last post on this blog, that I haven’t really used since then, I wrote a similar post. This time, you really outdid yourself, though.
You came into my life in February of 2014. It was the last semester of my Junior year in high school. I fell in love with you the minute I saw you outside of South County Mall. I even went and hid in the bathroom with Morgan because I was so nervous to see you face to face.
Four months later, June 2014, I gave you the one thing that I would never, EVER, get back. I trusted you with that. I thought that what we had was going to last longer than it did.
That made me fall in love with you even more; I attach myself too easily. I became emotionally attached to you more than I already was before because that’s what happens when you have sex with someone. Your brain releases chemicals and they make you attached. Well, my brain did, maybe not yours because you cheated on me and fucked other people like it was nothing.
I fell in love with a toxic, lying, deceiving, self-absorbed, nitpicking monster.
Mother knows best. Never doubt your mother. Ever. She basically told me it wasn’t a good idea and she told me of all the things that could and might happen. But I didn’t listen, because I thought I was in love with you. And I was.
Me and you. We talked about the future. We talked about marriage, kids, cars, houses, our future jobs, etc. What a fucking load of horse shit. I don’t know about you, but I was serious. I thought about our future together and what we could accomplish, guess I was wrong, though.
You think you know someone and you really don’t. I broke up with you because you see no wrong in snapchatting other females. But then again, neither did they, because one of them had a boyfriend of her own. I always gave you the benefit of the doubt, though, but waking up to your phone being blown up by other girls was the last straw for me.
I knew I was better than that. I knew I was better than that every other time, too.
I made you leave because I thought it was for the best. And then I wasn’t really sure. I was confused. I was hurt. I knew what you did was wrong, but I looked over it because that’s what I do. That’s the kind of person I am.
You said you needed space and so did I, so my ultimate decision was to make you leave, so I only assumed that we had broken up.
I came to see you one night. Sam sat in the car for over an hour until about 3 in the morning while I tried to figure out what we were and if I wanted you back in my life or not.
I couldn’t figure it out. I didn’t know what we were. You kept trying to touch me, and I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel right, but it felt nice to kiss and hug someone.
I got a new phone. I blocked your texts and calls after you were being a prick to me.
Then I had to factory reset it because it wouldn’t connect to the mobile network. I forgot to block your number again because I hadn’t heard from you in a few days.
Then you texted me on some bullshit and I remembered that I forgot to do something. You were talking about, “who said we weren’t still together?” At that point, I was talking to someone else, we had only been talking for a week or two, but he found a way to make me smile when I was going through this rough patch with you.
I stopped talking to him because I thought that maybe you were trying to win me over again. I haven’t talked to him since.
I said okay, and I let it be. Time went by.
The day after you told me we were still together, you made a post on facebook saying x, y, z, and that you didn’t have a girlfriend. I reacted to it. With the angry face, obviously. You deleted it. I texted you and called you sketchy. Beause you are.
You told me I always assumed things. You told me I was “Assuming Adriana” and that was who I was.
You yelled at me and asked me why I always assumed things. I said, “I don’t know” and you told me “well, when you solve that mystery then message me,” I said, “okay,” and didn’t say anything else to you.
Two days later, you texted me asking if I was done assuming.
You sent me three question marks.
The next day, you texted me again.
This time, you said, “Hello.”
Again, you asked me if I was done assuming things. When I didn’t respond, you sent me more question marks.
In response, I said, “Are you done being a cunt to me.” I sent you two question marks after you didn’t respond.
You didn’t understand how you were being a cunt, so I had to dumb it down for you. Not a big shocker there.
You said you didn’t know why you’ve been such an asshole. I said I didn’t know either and that it really sucked.
Three days went by this time.
I had your calls blocked again, but I kept getting this stupid notification that I had a voicemail. When I went to call my voicemail, my call log showed me your rejected call.
I asked you if you called, and you had smart ass remarks to say to me. You asked me why I haven’t been talking to you, and I told you I’ve been busy working. You claimed to have texted me twice, but I never received them. So there you went. Assuming things. But I didn’t call you out on it.
I called you back. We talked for a little bit until I hung up on you because I didn’t have anything to say. I decided I would pour my heart out to you last night. Because I was in my feelings and had no one else to talk to. I talked to you about how I missed everything and how I haven’t felt the same about myself since I made you leave. You claimed you missed everything, too.
So, if I hadn’t asked, would you have told me that you were fucking other people again? Two people at that. We’ve been broken up not even three months. You’re no better than your sleazeball friends.
I should never have let you known the results to those STD tests. I should have just left you thinking that you got infected with herpes from your herpe-whore friends and had the whole slew of diseases. I went and got those tests done for myself -- no one else. I should have left you thinking that Tiffany gave you syphilis. I should have left you thinking that you got herpes from Gabby. But I’m not that kind of person. I let you know the results as soon as I got off the phone with Planned Parenthood because I wanted you to feel guilty for possibly ruining my life. I was clean and that was all that mattered to me.
You are a toxic human being, a compulsive liar, and an asshole with commitment problems. I can’t believe I fell in love with you.
You made me feel like I wasn’t enough. You said I never did anything for you. You made me feel like shit, when in reality, you’re the sack of shit who wasn’t good enough for me.
BUT I STILL LOVE YOU. Because I constantly forgive and I’m too caring for my own good.
Is that why you fucked me over?
I know I had issues, but you did too. I was able to admit it, but were you?
You ruined my life and my outlook on love.
Feed your lies and bullshit sap story to somebody else who isn't going to give two fucking shits about you in the end.
