I'm not going to say your name.

Why? Because you don't deserve that. In fact, you don't even deserve this letter, but it's necessary for the process of me temporarily healing the wounds you so carelessly inflicted on me.

I so clearly remember the first time I saw a picture of you, and all I could think about was how sure I was that your smile could end wars- I just never thought you could start them.

I remember seeing your blue eyes for the first time in person and thinking about the line from my favorite Taylor Swift song, "Oh damn, never seen that color blue". I remember so many good things about you that I wish every day I didn't remember. I wish I didn't think about your dimples, or the forehead kisses I got throughout us watching a documentary you didn't even want to watch. I wish those thoughts didn't overshadow the thought when your true colors showed.

I wish the thoughts of you covering my mouth and telling me it didn't matter what I wanted overshadowed the time you told me you loved me, because as hard as that memory is to relive, at least it was real.

At least during that moment, you weren't lying to me because you really didn't care what I wanted and it was obvious you really didn't love me.

I wish I could hate you. It should come so easily like it's second nature, but it doesn't.

It's so hard to hate you, and that's something I'll never understand. The ultimate paradox of the universe.

You broke me. But yet, somehow I can't hate you.

I never thought a man could hurt me worse than my dad did, because I couldn't think of more of an ultimate betrayal than a man leaving his children, but here you are- doing it.What you did to me what the ultimate betrayal.

You put together my broken pieces, only to shatter them ten times harder in ways I couldn't even fathom. You took so much from me, and it's the kind of things you can't give back. Once its gone forever, it's only yours to keep.

I never wanted to write this. I never wanted you to know how much you've affected my life. I didn't want to give you that satisfaction, but I decided to stop thinking about you and think about me, and I needed this closure. I need to do this for myself and pick up my own pieces, instead of entrusting someone like you to do it again.

You were it: you were my ten on that scale in the doctor's office. Physically and mentally, this was the highest end of the pain spectrum.