Dear Boy,

You know, when I first met you, I thought you were so charming and kind, enchanting even. You knew my favorite flowers were wild and that I liked Coke over Pepsi. You knew what joke to tell me when I was upset and when to twirl me around in dance. Slowly, you learned everything about me. You learned my struggles and my flaws, my past and my dreams, and you loved them all. Or so you said...

Months went by in our little slice of heaven and each day began and ended with sweet nothings whispered in my ear as I fell asleep. But then you started to pay less attention to me, and little by little, we hardly ever spoke. I'd wave to you in the hallways and come up to say hi, only to see you dart away and run. That night I'd text you twice and call hours later, only to be put straight to voicemail. I had no idea that what was about to come could feel any worse than the person you love ghosting you

After a few weeks of not talking, I assumed we were over, though I felt empty with disbelief and regret. But then on a Thursday night you showed up at my doorstep, bearing flowers and apologies, and on the spot, I took you back. And so began our cycle. I never asked why you left or what things you did during that time, because I didn't want to face the reality. So another week passes in a little slice of happiness, but then things start to change, again.

You didn't tell me I was beautiful anymore. You didn't push my hair behind my ear and look into my eyes. Instead, you started saying "You should cut your hair," or "Maybe you shouldn't eat that," or even, "Please go put some makeup on, you look like crap today." And so I cut my hair, and dyed it red like you wanted. I stopped eating more than once a day and wore makeup at all times.

Before long, I was a ghost of myself. I was your slave and you, my master.

And then you left. Again. But this time, I showed up at your door. I didn't leave until you would answer it only to have me come inside so you could tell me everything you hated about me. And then I left for a day or two. Every single time, I always came back, because you can't just quit the drug of boy.

Guess what?

I finally quit you.

It took me until I was lying on the bathroom floor, drenched in sweat and tears and a little blood, that I realized that maybe I was okay the way I was. Maybe I looked all right with blonde hair and green eyes and some extra weight. Maybe the blue bags under my eyes were even all right. After some much needed help from people who love me and months of missing you and your bitter touch, I'm doing okay. And yes, I now know that when you left, you were sleeping with your ex.

Now I eat pizza and ice cream in the same day, and I don't wear makeup to class sometimes, and I grew my hair out and went back to blonde because you don't destroy the people you love. So please, stay away from me.

Sincerely (Goodbye Forever),

Your Emotionally Abused Ex-Girlfriend.