The first conversation we ever had was a lie.

I didn't realize it at the time, of course, but it was. You told me how "being young was getting really old" and that you were "ready to find something real again." At that point, you meant nothing to me. You were just the cute guy I met online and, by some chance of fate, had a mutual friend with in real life. But we got to know each other. You asked all the right questions and acted like you cared about the answers.

Then you fucked me over the first time.

You came back around a few weeks later, feeding me your bullshit "72 Hour Rule" and how you just wanted to let the situation breathe before approaching me again. You told me how you "liked me from the jump" and if you could only get a second chance you'd make sure to "do right by me."

Then you screwed me over again and, the thing is, at the end of the day, I let you. I let you make your bullshit excuses, I let you string me along and it wasn't until recently that I finally realized why.

You are a damn expert at giving another person "just enough."

You'd give me just enough of yourself that I felt like I was actually getting to know you. You'd give me just enough truth that I couldn't actually catch you in a lie. You'd give me just enough attention that it was easy for me to write off the times that you ignored me. To be fair, you warned me. You told me you weren't a good guy and that you had a bad track record with women, but in the same breath told me how you wanted to change all that. And that, by far, was the worst thing you gave me just enough of. You'd give me just enough hope that things would be different and you were finally going to step up that I kept giving you chance after chance.

You played me like those fucking guitar strings, and I let you.

See, the messed up part of it all is that I genuinely started to care for you and you knew it. You knew it in the way I kept giving to you and you knew it because I flat out told you. You knew how I felt and you kept the whole thing going. What's worse, is you gave that ever-present glimmer of hope that you were possibly starting to feel the same way, too. You always said you were very attentive to the things you said and now I understand that attentiveness is what screwed me over in the end.

Because when the shit really hit the fan, you were extremely attentive to doing and saying all of the things you knew would absolutely gut me.

You questioned my character. You refused to accept what you knew was true. You made sure I understood, in no uncertain terms, that I was one of many girls in your life. You played it off like we never took the time to get to know anything about each other and that I was just one of your weekend hookups. You took a girl who had been nothing but honest and genuine and respectful and kind to you and degraded her to the slut you party with on Friday and Saturday nights. I have never been made to feel so small in my life.

But just like clockwork, you came back around and apologized. Until I got too close. That's the problem with sad souls like yours; you are terrified of anything real. Casual sex with a parade of girls is easy. Letting someone get close to you and start to see who you really are? That's hard. Especially when you don't actually like the person you see in the mirror. I never took your for a coward, but then again, I thought I knew a lot about you that ended up being a lie.

I honestly believe you when you say that you wish you could change, but I'm not sure you ever will. You are so afraid and so set in your ways that I'm not sure you're even willing to put in the work to be a better you.

See, the games you play are a choice. Being just sincere enough without actually being honest, is a choice. The way you treated me in the face of hearing things you didn't want to accept, was a choice. You chose to hurt me and you claim that it's some innate part of your being, that it all comes down to your nature, but you're wrong. You choose the life you live. You choose the way you treat others. You are so lost and broken and you chose to break me.

Or to try.

I could be like you. I could let this make me cold and hard. I could know in my heart the right thing to do and the feelings I have, but use my head to convince myself otherwise. I could break a heart to make myself feel better about the pathetic life I live. I could wake up and look at my face in the mirror every morning knowing that I'm not even half the person I could be. But I refuse to do that.

I told you once before that nice girls have their limits, too. I will give and give and believe the best in people because that's who I am. That is something innate. That is my nature. You chose to hurt me and now I'm choosing not to let you. I'm choosing to forgive you. I'm choosing to accept that, as much as I may want things to be different, you aren't ready and this is just how they have to be. The most heartbreaking thing about all of this isn't even that you didn't turn out to be who I thought you were; it's that you honestly think this is an acceptable way to live.

I've been given the run-around by plenty of boys before you and I'm sure you won't be the last asshole to break my heart, but what makes this so hard is how absolutely calculated the entire thing was. You accused me of having an agenda, but the truth is that you held all the cards from the beginning and now I'm the one having to know when to fold them and walk away. And I'm going to walk away from this better than I was before. I'm going to push through the hurt and the resentment and the anger and I'm going to find my way to something better. You may have broken my heart, but you will never break me.

I never asked you for anything, but I'm asking you to understand this:

I want you to know that I hope someday it can be different for you; because like it or not, I do care about you. I hope that someday you can find it in you to actually care about someone, too. I hope you let someone get close without pushing them away and I hope that person changes everything for you. Because, as much as you inadvertently tried to take my happiness away from me, I would never want to deny you yours. Nobody deserves to be alone, not even you. I tried so hard to get to know the real you, but it just wasn't meant to be. I may never understand why all of this happened the way that it did, but I have to believe it was for a reason.

I mean, it's like J. Cole said, right? "Guess I met you for a reason, only time can tell."

Well, it's been six months. Someday, that reason will make itself known to me. Someday I'll know why it had to happen this way and why life threw something and someone so seemingly fucked up and cruel into my lap. Someday, it'll all make sense. I can only hope that someday this will all help you become a better person, too.