I was a high school junior, with little knowledge of what love was. Hell, I still do not know what love is. I do not know if I will ever know what love is. I had a girlfriend, someone who I had known since 8th grade, who I adored. She meant the world to me, or at least I thought she meant the world to me. I'm nervous as to write this because I do not think I ever told her my side, but if she does read this, at least she will know.

Dear _______,

It was a sunny day in the school parking lot, and as we were walking around the building together singing song lyrics of our eighth grade year, you smiled and I thought, "Hey, I think I like you."

You struggled with accepting the inevitable truth of your beauty. We sang the corny, cheesy lyrics to "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction as we played air hockey and countless other activities because I wanted you to realize your beauty.

As we walked around the building, our hands ended up intertwined with awkward mumbles of affection emitting from our shy demeanor. We were not dating yet, but man I wished we were. It was not until two years later we decided to become an item.

I knew you. You knew me. We did not have to go through the basic decencies of getting to know each other because we already did. I drove 45 minutes to bring you Dr. Pepper and Sour Patch Kids and a paper cell phone because you broke yours. We kissed on your doorstep, and I did not want to leave.

I felt safe. I felt at home. All of my worries of miscellaneous assignments and duties were gone in the instance our lips pressed. Then one day, I guess you were not feeling it anymore. Or I screwed things up. Probably the latter. You were my first true girlfriend, the first one to exchange those three little words with.

You broke up with me over a text message, and I guess that is what hurt the most. I could not date for almost two years because I just could not get over you. We kept our friendship going, but things just were not the same. It hurt to talk to you at all. Just know that my therapist knows about you.

Now we are friends. Now you do not control my actions. Now you do not control my emotions. We fixed things and put them to bed. I do not know if I will ever be over you, but part of me does not want to ever be over you.

It is a reminder of what I did wrong. It is a reminder that I got in too deep. It is a reminder that we just were not meant to be. Now I talk to you about all of my issues and you do the same, and now our friendship is even stronger now that we are over each other.

It still hurts from time to time, but I cope. I do not regret anything, and I do not think I ever will. So, oddly enough, thank you. I am glad we are civil towards each other now, but for a minute there we were not.

I appreciate that your number is still in my phone and that we can talk every once in a while and still be friends, but thank you for teaching me what love is not.