Hi. I bet you're reading this in disbelief that I was bold enough to call you out.

Or maybe you're not reading this because you don't really care for the things that made me happy, like writing. Regardless, I want to say how I feel.

I feel dumb for ever thinking that you would change. You can't teach old dogs new tricks, but I was persistent. I thought that if I gave you time, you'd want to get serious, but you were like a child with a new toy.

You played with it for a while, then you grew tired of the not so fancy tricks.

You made me feel like Raggedy Ann, and like she was Malibu Barbie.

I don't have a Malibu beach house. You couldn't bend my body any way that you wanted or pluck off my limbs. You hated that.

I feel angry because I'm a great human being, and you didn't notice that. You couldn't see the sparkle in my eye, the potential in my strides. You saw her instead.

I feel betrayed because I gave you my soul in a hand-basket, and you fed it to the big bad wolf. You threw my heart away, without giving me yours in return.

I feel hurt because the pressure of your feet on my back started to wear. Because you threw your jacket over me, as if I were a puddle. And you helped her across, making sure that none of me got on her new shoes.

It pains me to write this about you because deep down, I still care even though I know that you never will.

You never did.

You took the life from my eyes and had not regrets or sorrow in your tear ducts.

You thought I'd stay down, like an old shirt at the bottom of your smelly pile of clothes (right next to your football cleats). A shirt you never wear until you realize you haven't done laundry in two weeks. Always there when you need it.

I just want you to know that I'll be ok.

You thought that you were my sun and grass could not grow without your presence, but you were wrong.

I am the sun.

Without me, the grass and the pretty little flowers in your front yard would be nothing.

I allowed the clouds to cover me so that you had shade, but now my rays hurt your bearded face. You squint at the sight of me, missing those clouds; missing me being covered by the clouds.

I just want you to know that I AM good enough.

I'll be Raggedy Ann, because I know that Raggedy Andy has been by her side all along. She's always been good enough for him.

When I smile, just know it's because I can finally breathe.

If you're still reading this (or not reading this), I want you to know that I'm fine.

My tears are no longer a result of you, but a result of happiness.

It took me a long time, but I finally realize that those two things aren't the same; happiness and you.

She can have you.

I'll take the happiness.

With Love,

The Rejected and Neglected