An Open Letter To The Guy That Broke My Best Friend’s Heart

An Open Letter To The Guy That Broke My Best Friend’s Heart

It’s your loss. Not hers.
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Dear Butthead,

There are far worse things I could have called you, and we both know you would deserve it, but I’m choosing to take the high road. I could go on and on about what a jerk you are; about how guilty you should feel for doing what you did. But we also both know that won’t do anything to your ego, or affect your future relationships. I won’t sit here and scold you, or tell you that you broke her. That you set fire to her heart and danced on the ashes. That you should pity her or think you had any impact on her confidence, her beauty or her spirit. But I will tell you this:

Do not dare pity her. For she was the sun and you were the dirt of the Earth. You needed her to grow and blossom.

Do not dare give yourself so much credit to think you or your actions changed her. Not her personality, her self-worth, or her strength. She is stronger because of you.

She just doesn’t know it yet.

My best friend is striking, insightful, and significant in ways you could never understand or hope to understand. She is worthy and strong. She was good to you in ways you never could have appreciated. She was your loss, not the other way around. You did not know her like I do, like I always have. I see someone capable of overcoming loss, who has done it before and will certainly do it again. I see someone who loves with her whole heart and nothing less.

She may not see it within herself but I do. I see a girl who is so much more than what you made her out to be. You were not what she needed. She needs – no, deserves – someone who loves her as much as her best friend does. Someone who never lets her forget how well she deserves to be treated. Someone who reminds her every day that she is good enough, because I know for a fact that she is. And so do you, whether you choose to admit it or not.

So if you see her in the future, blissfully happy with a new you; let her be. If you’re jealous or downhearted and think about reaching out to her, just let her be. Smile for her. Be grateful that she found someone who finally gave her the things you could not, for whatever reason. Be the man she knew you could be, deep down inside. If you loved her like you said you did, let her be. She deserves that much from you.

Sincerely,

Your Ex’s Best Friend

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8 Reasons Why You Should Go Away For College

A journey of self-discovery and new experiences.
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Deciding where to attend college is a hard decision for a lot of people, myself included. I went to my safety school for two years and then transferred to the school I've always wanted to go to. So many things are taken into consideration when choosing a college including, but not limited to, cost, majors/programs provided, and distance from home. Some might be completely ready to leave and start an entirely new life, while others are apprehensive and want to either stay at home or close to. Whatever the case is, I'm a strong proponent of going away to college and here's why.

1. You learn A LOT about yourself.

This also goes along with independence, responsibility, and the fresh start. You figure out what's good for you, what's bad for you, the consequences of actions, and how to handle each and everything that comes your way. This experience really makes you grow up and become mature.

2. You learn how to be responsible and independent.

Mommy and daddy are no longer hovering over your shoulder. Every decision that you make from now on is made by you and only you. You have to make you go to class and take care of your responsibilities.

3. You learn a sense of direction.

The hour between Ypsilanti and Toledo has always been an easy drive, but it becomes easier and faster every time I do it. I don't need to use Waze anymore and I could probably do the drive in my sleep if I absolutely had to.

4. You get a different college experience than those who stayed home.

Every one experiences college differently but to those of us who went away, we're experiencing college on a completely different level. Instead of running home to our parents' house after a long day of class, we run home to a dorm or an apartment that we're likely paying way too much for.

5. You quickly learn how to make new friends.

Chances are you came to your new school knowing very few people or nobody at all. Whatever the case is, you're going to want to talk to as many people as you can. You'll be able to meet people from all over the country, and maybe even the world. The people you meet could potentially be your lifelong friends and a new support system since you're so far away from the ones you already have.

6. You essentially learn a new lingo.

Before I moved to Ypsi, I didn't know what a "Michigan Left" was, what an "enhanced license" was, what "A2" stood for, where "Downriver" is, that most people say backpack and not bookbag, or that most of the carry outs are called party stores.

7. You appreciate your home more.

Coming home is always a big event. You get your own room back, your own bed back, and all your favorite foods, as well as home-cooked meals. You bring more laundry home than packed clothes because you know it's free and the laundry fairy might even do it for you.

8. You get a fresh start.

You're no longer with the people you've spent a majority of your life with. You can finally think for yourself, be who you want to be, and let go of the person you've been for the past 18 years. Personal growth and development is never a bad thing, and what better time to start than when you're at a new school in a new city.

Cover Image Credit: Hunter Johnson

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We're The Kids From Broken Homes

And we are more than the numbers.
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The truth of the matter, these days, is that at least 50% of children will witness their parents separate. From there, life flips upside down. As a child of divorce, I watched the brutal process and the way it made my parents despise each other. When I was five, my father took us on a plane, dropped us in New Jersey, and disappeared before our mother could even figure out what had happened. It's not an uncommon story, anymore. "We're not in love", "We don't know each other". You'll hear these words, and somehow, somewhere in your brain you will decide that love is not for you.

It's a popular notion, that the kids who come from homes like this are less likely to do better, less likely to succeed, more likely to need psychological help and maybe that's right. Perhaps it's the idea of happily ever after shattering before our very eyes that makes us so much more susceptible to the darker nature of the world, and the way it really works that makes us more prone to being down or sad. If not anything else, maybe it's just the fact that we were taught from the time we were young by Disney movies and cartoons that two people were meant to stay together forever, no matter how hard it got.

We become a statistic, we become a number in a book for someone to compare to a regular kid with the white picket fence and the family portrait above the fire place of bright and smiley faces. But we're so much more than that. We're taught people can survive heartbreak. We bear witness to our mothers falling to their knees, our fathers drinking themselves into holes. To see these things at such formative ages, doesn't that make us super heroes in our own right? Do we not earn some sincere badge of honor? I would like to believe that. I truly would.

I refuse to be another statistic for anyone to write about.

I refute the idea that my childhood has made me less capable to succeed, and I don't think anyone else should believe such a thing. I think we are stronger from the places we have come, and we get more strength from where we choose to go following those dark memories. I'm not saying they don't weigh us down, because they do. They scar us. They stay with us, and they never wander too far off from the back of our minds.

We're less likely to allow ourselves to commit to someone because we believe it's doomed to fail. We're less likely to trust anyone to stick around for more than a blink, because we've watched something we believed to be invincible dissolve. We're told we have 'daddy issues', that we're unreachable, that we're cold. We are a whole group, a whole diverse sect of people who have been branded with stigmas that probably pop up in anyone's mind once our parents come into conversation. The truth, the real and honest wound left behind is far from one that wants to keep people out.

We hold on for dear life to feelings that connect us to someone else, while being scared to death that the minute we're brave enough to tread onto this territory, that the ground will slip from beneath us and leave us open to the cruel elements this world can throw at us once more. We pray for a day where we don't look at someone we wake up next to and wonder 'how much longer before you leave, too?' Is it not human nature to fear time? Are we not the only creature on this planet that counts down?

In the end, the kids from broken homes? We're the ones who want nothing more than to be loved. We want to do better, we want more than what we got handed when we were young. We want to succeed, to thrive, to make attachments, we want to love fearlessly because we were noted with such little care while our parents were so wrapped up in what was going on in their lives. We're the kids who want you to remember us down the line when you're thinking of people who made you stop and bask in the sunlight that radiates from our very core.

We don't want to be statistics. We want to be so much more.

Cover Image Credit: The Marshfield Times

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