Dear Hugh Hefner:

You died on September 27, 2017. You were 91 years old. You left behind a legacy that has greatly impacted the world that we live in today. Many thoughtful opinions have been given on your death – from your son hailing you as a "leading voice behind some of the most significant social and cultural movements of our time in advocating free speech, civil rights and sexual freedom," to Catholic leader Jason Everitt's call to "join [us] in praying for his soul (and for everyone wounded from his choices)." There has been a wide array of thoughts given in light of your passing, and I thought I would lend my voice to that sea.

Mr. Hefner, I am not here to condemn you. I know that we all fall short in so many ways. Besides, in a world that sees morality as a spectrum, which of us is truly right or wrong? However, I do not subscribe to spectrum-centric morality. I find error in your path because I have seen and been personally affected by the damage caused by it. I have seen a world frenzied and enamored by sexual promiscuity, glorifying those who give up of themselves without a second thought. I see men breaking the hearts of their wives and girlfriends with unfaithfulness, encouraged to do so by women focused only on glorifying their own bodies to be a source of lust. Mr. Hefner, you have helped create a society of depravity and unfaithfulness because you have encouraged the idea that sex is commonplace, that it is not sacred, and that relationships are only as good as the physical chemistry within them.

I had a boyfriend this past year--my first boyfriend in a long time because I chose to wait for the right one. I asked God to safeguard my heart for the right man and to give my heart to that man when it was time. This man came along, and I felt God give my heart to him, despite my fears and prayerful tears as I told God I wasn't ready. I felt God call me to step up to the plate and be a part of this relationship, so I put aside my fears and I did what I knew I was supposed to do. Despite my carefulness and my reservations, I fell in love with this boy after four short months of being together.

I fell in love with his gentle soul, his blue eyes, his dry sense of humor and the way he laughed. I fell in love with his family, the way he kissed me, the way he smelled when I hugged him, and his curious, playful heart. I fell in love with what I thought was his teachable, humble heart for Jesus, and his desire to serve. He was blunt, he overthought everything, and I adored him. I couldn't help it. I found my silence in him--and for someone like me, who is never not haunted by a stirring, restless mind, that silence meant I finally had a moment to breathe.

We talked every single day for nearly five months. He became my best friend. I couldn't picture my future without him in it. Every part of my heart was his.

Then, it all fell into pieces.

We weren't having sex. I thought we were on the same page about waiting to do that until we were married. He certainly communicated that those were his beliefs, as well. It was hard, but we were abstaining. We were doing what we felt was the right thing to do. And then, in March, I got a phone call from my cousin. My boyfriend was on Tinder, hooking up with girls when he returned to his university from our hometown. I even talked to one of the girls he had sex with. She was kind, Mr. Hefner. She was kind, and she didn't know he had a girlfriend. She was used by my boyfriend for her body and her body alone. She deserved more than that, but you have created a world where she does not.

I've lost twenty pounds since my breakup. Most people are congratulatory when they hear that. "You're on the right track to improving your life without him," they say. Sure, the weight loss is an improvement. But far too many people throw out accolades for those who lose weight after a heartbreak without even realizing why the person is losing weight. I'm not losing weight because I want to. I'm losing weight because I can't eat.

I have no appetite. I look in the mirror and hate myself. I wasn't beautiful enough. I wasn't skinny enough. I didn't have clear enough skin, perfect enough curves, a white enough smile--I didn't look like any of the Playboy Bunnies do. My kisses weren't intoxicating enough, my touch was not satisfying enough--I was not enough to make him love me. I don't look like what your company says beauty is. I guess he realized that, too. He was more than enough for me, but I was not enough for him. I was not worth waiting for.

Mr. Hefner, it's not your fault my boyfriend cheated on me. It's not your fault that I'm having a hard time recovering. I just wish you could realize the depravity that you've helped encourage does not have any beauty in it whatsoever. I wish you could realize that your sex-filled fantasy has shattered dreams, rather than making them come true. I wish you one night in my bedroom, so you could see what "sexual freedom" does to its victims: the horrible crying, the swollen, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, the screams of anguish. The horror. The ghosts and demons that haunt me every moment I look in the mirror and tell me that I will never, never be good enough. I wish you could see that.

You have constructed a world full of lies that glamorizes sex as a free-spirited, disengaged activity that provides nothing but physical stimulation. You've created a world where there are no consequences for infidelity, there is no accountability for unfaithfulness, and the mere idea of sex being sacred is laughable.

You've been a cornerstone in the creation of the world in which my ex-boyfriend and I are forced to live. And, love? Love has been eradicated through the messages of people like you. What do you know of love?

You know nothing. Nothing but the animalistic nature of attraction and humping that we all fall prey to.

I hope that you came to know the Lord, and you were freed from a world of bondage and sin upon your death. But unfortunately, you left behind a world still caught up in that bondage. And did you help at all?

No. You just tightened the handcuffs.

Rest in Peace, Hugh Hefner.