I am addicted to social media just like the rest of my generation. On Twitter I follow a string of writers and read their work religiously. I began to pay attention to one writer in particular, I call him K, but he wrote anonymously. Our conversations started as tweets, rolled over into direct messages, matured into texting, and inevitably crashed and burned after he ghosted me. The eight months I spent getting to know him were ignorant bliss compared to the soul crushing way it ended. Without further ado, I give you a letter from the best mistake I made at the age of 21.

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Dear K,

I am writing to you because every time I try telling you the truth I pull back, unintentionally pushing you away. When I first met you, I had no idea how far I would end up falling for you. At first you were a stranger, a guy shielded from reality by anonymity, but then you developed into something more. You were supposed to be nothing more than a stranger, but we both know how that played out.

You showed me a playlist, and that is where our story began. That playlist was my first glimpse into the man behind the mask. I began to look forward to you responding to my tweets, and I was eager to know what was on your mind. I had a crush on you before I even saw what you looked like or your perfect hair. I didn’t care what you looked like because I was falling for your thoughts. I decided that it was now or never, I had to give myself a chance with you. I did what all girl hate to do, I made the first move and sent you a private message. I was prepared to be ignored, but to my surprised you answered. After talking for a few days you shared your actual identity with me, and shit you were hot.

The night you asked for my number I thought my chest was going to explode. My heart fluttered at the idea of you actually wanting to talk to me. Talking to you was so easy, you lived hours away and I didn’t think I would ever see you face to face. I wasn’t afraid to tell you the truth, and you seemed to love that. There were many times where my honesty caught you off guard, and each one of those moments made me want you more. I began to think that you could be something more than just a person on the other end of a phone.

It crushes me to think that I cared about you so blindly. You are everything I want in a boyfriend. You are one of the funniest guys I know. I enjoy your intelligence, eclectic music taste, sense of style, and your sarcasm. I know I can be a bitch, so I appreciated that you could be an asshole. When I was sarcastic with you, you dished it right back out. When I think about you I think of you as an equal, but at the same time I constantly wanted your approval. You are exactly four years older than me, and you made a comment to me about falling in love that haunts me still. You told me that you didn’t want me getting attached, and even worse you called me a kid. That comment is the sole reason I shut down every time I even think about a future with you. One comment turned into the dumbest insecurity ever. I started to wonder if I was too young for you, or at least acted too young for you. If I sent a message and you ignored it, I knew it was because I said something immature. I was plagued with self-doubt when I spoke to you. I allowed myself to become vulnerable with you, and to this day the thought scares me.

Things between us, whatever they were, grew strange. One night, by chance, I found myself in your city, and that night was one I’ll never forget no matter how hard I try. I was so nervous to be face to face with you I could barely string words together. You kissed me in your kitchen as the world around me faded. The high I achieved that night was unlike any other I had experienced. When I left the next morning I was in disbelief of everything that had happened. A battle began brewing inside of me on my drive home. Did meeting me change anything for you, or was this just a grand one-night stand? My worries dissolved as the ping of a message revealed a text from you asking if you would ever see me again. My head was spinning in the best way possible all because of you.

This is where things started to get weird. For a few weeks, things were great. I even bought you something for Christmas, which I never sent you because I was afraid to look clingy. After Christmas you became distant. You mentioned wanting to see me again, but all the rescheduling and cancelling made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. I was devastated because all I wanted was another night with you. I was a wreck; my brain knew what was going on, but my heart was hanging onto every word you shared with me. Any hope I had of a real relationship with you was crumbling no matter how hard I tried to keep it alive.

Months passed with only a few messages back and forth. The last time I spoke to you was in February, and now it’s May. Three months have a strange way of feeling like forever when you’re cast aside like nothing. You completely shut me out. You stopped tweeting at me and my texts went unanswered. You successfully ghosted me, and I have never felt rejection like this before. I went from feeling pure ecstasy to wondering what I did wrong to make you not like me. I hate you for making me feel so crazy. I play everything over in my head wondering where I went wrong, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why you couldn’t just tell me. The worst part of this is that I still have feelings for you. I still want a future with you. I imagined having forever with you, but instead I only had eight months. You broke me, whether you know it or not, and I’m stuck picking up my own pieces.

I don’t know if I will ever hear from you again, and I can’t decide if it pisses me off that you might never think of me again or if it’s because all I want is to talk to you just one more time. Reminders of you are everywhere. I see you in every bottle of bourbon I drink, every dog that looks like Hank, and you even haunt my dreams. There will come a day when I stop thinking about you, but I’m not sure if I'm ready for that just yet.

With Love,

E.