I'd never been noticed in a romantic way by a boy before my sophomore year of high school, and my knowledge of the Y-Chromosome was severely limited. I wasn't the most gorgeous girl on the planet, and my braces were a long way from coming off. Yikes.

Around Christmastime that year, I was invited to a party by a friend I had made recently. I walked in the door nervous as anything, never having been to a party that someone's parent hadn't invited me to. I was greeted by my friend, and across the room I saw a boy glancing at me. He knew me from Spanish class, he'd said as I sat down with the group. I nodded, and we struck up conversation here and there. Hours later, we'd both opened up about our lives. A week later, that boy and I began dating. Yes, that boy was you.

A year went by. I'd cut my hair, and my braces were gone. My awkward phase had ended. The two of us, on the other hand, had just entered an awkward phase ourselves. It was almost common knowledge in our grade at this point that we were in a serious relationship, and we'd already been caught giving each other a kiss in the hallway. For a Catholic school, I suppose that was a sort of "initiation."

I'd always been an introverted and private person, but you wanted to make our relationship as public as it could be. I hated PDA, and you knew it, but you got upset when I expressed opinions like that. You said that if I loved you, I wouldn't mind putting it all out in the open. I didn't want to, but you'd made the ultimatum. I had to agree, because the last thing I wanted was for you to leave me for it.

A year and a half. At parties with our friends, no one could pry us apart from one another. Our PDA had escalated to a point where others' reactions to us moved from "they're adorable" to cringing awkwardly at our over-the-top displays of affection. One of our friend's parents even caught us kissing in the middle of one of our group's get-togethers, instead of talking to each other like normal people.

Junior prom season approached. I walked into school in the morning before classes started, taking a seat next to you in the cafeteria. You turned to me and said you had something to tell me. My heart sank as you asked if I remembered the time you and one of our mutual friends had gotten together one night. I said yes. You told me you hadn't just gotten together. You had cheated on me with her.

I shut her out. Among other things, this is one of my biggest regrets of our time together. I believed every word you said, that she was flirting with you, that she had been hinting at it all night. I wouldn't even listen to her side of the story, and I wound up losing my best friend. I defended you to the ends of the earth, even if there was no truth to what I was defending. I'd broken up with you, but I took you back after a month. I kept losing friends, but it didn't matter as long as I had you.

Almost two years. At homecoming of senior year, I didn't want to be near you. I was afraid of you, but I didn't know why. So I hid from you. I realized that I had no friends left, and that you were absolutely it for me. But I didn't want it... I was afraid. I went out to find you soon enough, but I couldn't see you anywhere. A slow song came on, one of the two played that night. As the song drew to a close and I still saw no sign of you, I collapsed against the wall in a heap and cried my eyes out. After the song had ended and another, fast-paced one had begun, I started to leave the gym. I felt someone grab my wrist and yank me backwards. I stared into your cold eyes. "Where the hell were you?" you growled through clenched teeth. Did you still love me at that point? Or had you stopped a long time ago? Did you ever really love me?

Two months after our two-year anniversary, I found out you'd cheated on me again... for the third time.

I'm not going to sit here and thank you for the pain you caused me. I'm just not going to do it. I am, however, going to sit here and thank myself for learning from you. I know I made mistakes in our relationship. I'm not denying that I was too pushy at times, and that I was often too paranoid or too attached to my phone when you wouldn't text me back, cheating or no cheating. No, I was not perfect. That doesn't change the fact that no one, not even me, deserves to be treated the way you treated me. I convinced myself that it was how a relationship was supposed to be, that love was supposed to hurt like a bullet to the chest, growing and growing with every passing day. I am not going to thank you. I am not here today because you hurt me and broke me down. I am here today because I learned how to build myself back up. I found people that supported me despite my flaws.

I am not making excuses for myself, not out loud, and not inside. Can you say the same?