Respectfully,

For a long, long time, I'd give anything to tell you, and frankly tell anyone, how much you hurt me. I wanted to scream it from the rooftops that you broke my heart, that you took whatever you could from me and demanded more. I'd write notebooks full of curses and wishes that I'd never met you. I'd repeat the sick words you spit at me and I'd relive the feelings until it felt like it was happening all over again. I'd wash my face and brush my hair for hours to try to get the feeling of your hands to fade. But, like I said, that was then.

Now, my chest doesn't tighten when I hear your name. My fingers keep scrolling when I pass your Instagram photos, and I can't remember the last time I shed a tear about what happened between us. You taught me that people will disappoint me, and that the only thing I can do about it is move on. While I'll always think you wronged me, I no longer blame myself for the way you treated me. For weeks, I tried to wrap my head around how you treated me, but I looked for answers in all the wrong places. It wasn't me who messed it up this time, I gave everything I could, and you were the one who dropped it.

Before I met you, I had an idea of the person I was. I thought I knew what I wanted, and I thought I knew what I deserved. If I have one thing to thank you for, it's for showing me what it's like to have my heart broken, so that I could rebuild it in a way that it'll never be hurt again, especially by someone like you. Now, I know what I want and I definitely know what I deserve, and it's not you. It was never you. It was me, all along.

Sincerely,

Me. Xo.