You probably think the terms “manipulator” or “abuser” are dramatic, but just labeling you as a person who used to say mean things to me doesn’t fit the bill.

When you met me, I was an innocent, fresh faced high school freshman, trying to navigate the scary world of high school. You started crushing on me hard, to the point where you called me your first love, even though I never felt the same way. I tried my best to keep things platonic in high school; I’ve never been that great at making friends and I needed someone to talk to. You got to know me very well, probably better than anyone had ever known me up until that point and you came to know and love my family. You were my best guy friend, but you thought I was the girl you were going to marry. I’ll admit I liked the attention you showered me with, but I feel like I always did a good job of making it clear to you that we were nothing more than friends. You had a lot of trouble being in the friend zone though.

You knew that high school was a pretty rough time for me. I couldn’t date anyone without being called a “slut” or a “whore.” I had girls shout at me down the hallway that I was a “fat bitch” because their ex-boyfriends talked to me. I lost a lot of friends because of gossip and rumors. I wish I could say you were a staunch supporter of mine during high school drama, but because of your struggle with being in the friend zone, you weren’t. You made me feel like I was worthless if I dated anyone but you. You told me that guys didn’t care about me or love me, all because you were the only one for me and nobody could love me the way you did. If my high school career were a Nicholas Sparks novel and the feelings were mutual, that might’ve been cute, but looking back now, I can see how manipulative that was of you.

So senior year, when you left for college, I thought I’d give you a shot. I had found it in my heart to forgive all of the terrible things you had said about me during our friendship and thought that surely, a relationship would fix our rocky friendship. Surprisingly, the fighting and name calling subsided for a few months, but there was still one problem- I didn’t feel the same way about you. Despite our checkered past, I liked us better when we were friends. When I was talking to a new guy a couple weeks later, you irrationally accused me of cheating on you, without providing a shred of evidence. That should’ve been my red flag that you and I couldn’t remain friends after the breakup, but I was young and have always given people the benefit of the doubt, to a fault.

When I moved to New York City after high school, I was starting a new life that you weren’t a part of, with the exception of the occasional “hi, how are you.” But every time I responded to you, I instantly regretted it, because we were never able to be cordial with each other without it blowing up into a full blown verbal match. At some point in my time in NYC, I matured and I realized that hurting me with your words was cowardly and it was the only way that you could still exert some form of control over me. I was going to a new school, I had new friends and I was following my dreams. But you used your knowledge of my weaknesses and insecurities to your advantage. You knew what to say to make me cry, how to make me feel like a failure in life at the age of 19, or what button to push to make me want to hurt myself. And every time I would ask why you felt the need to kick me while I was down, your answer was because you loved me. I knew that that was a strange way to display love and that it was not the kind of love I wanted to be on the receiving end of. No matter where I moved to or what I was doing with my life, I couldn’t escape your hurtful words. I confided in you with sensitive information that you always threatened to use against me when things went south with us. So I stopped confiding in you, but you had already known too much.

What we had was not a romantic love story where the best friend eventually becomes the boyfriend or husband. We were toxic together. You blamed me for doing things I never did. You called me demeaning names I didn’t deserve to be called. You instilled fear and self-doubt in me rather than inspiring hope and positivity.

Your manipulation lasted for several years, but it’s taken me the last year or so to realize the full impact you had on me. I have trouble trusting people; not because I think they’re lying or that they’ll cheat on me, but because I’m scared to open up to them for them use personal facts against me in order to hurt me. I have trouble asking for and accepting the things that I need; you made me feel like I should’ve been ashamed and embarrassed for not being financially independent at 20 years old out of jealousy. I don’t have trouble giving it, but I have trouble receiving love because I don’t know if it’s selfishly motivated. I have trouble celebrating successes in life because you constantly told me I’d never be successful and that I couldn’t do anything.

I’m working on all of these things and I’m already a much stronger person for recognizing the effect you had on me. During one of our more recent conversations, you said I was your first love and I just want to poke a hole in that statement. You may have felt that you loved me and I may have believed it because I was weak-minded, but you did not love me. You don’t let someone you love feel that they can be vulnerable with you and then tear them down when they don’t reciprocate those feelings. You don’t make someone you love feel like shit for reaching out for help. You don’t call someone you love horrible names and use nasty adjectives to describe them and then hope that they’ll marry you one day. I see now that everything you did was not out of love, it was out of insecurity, malice, and jealousy. And if that’s the way you show people that you love them, you have a lot to learn, and I hope you can work on that once you realize it.