When my parents began their seven-year divorce my world changed. It was my first experience with broken trust. My dad hurt my mom in ways I never knew were possible. Seeing my mom shattered scared me. What if I gave myself completely to someone else, and they threw me away? I built up walls to protect myself from the destruction I witnessed. I convinced myself that if I never let anyone in, I couldn’t be hurt. I never fully let anyone in until the best mistake I made when I was 21. I felt safe with him because there was distance. I could share everything without regret. I felt respected, and that was enough for me to break my walls down. For the first time in my life, I chose to be vulnerable and let someone in because I felt ready to share my trust. Unfortunately, the distance that brought me comfort also made it easy for him to lie to me. I had no reason to suspect dishonesty, but he apparently had no reason to be honest. He left me with a new feeling built from blind rage, confusion, and rejection. He brought my fears of broken love to life, but for some reason my fear evolved into courage.

Dear K,

You are such an asshole, more so than I ever thought, which is ironic because that was once something I liked about you. Did you really think I was so dumb that I wouldn’t figure out your lies or did you just not care enough to be honest with me? During the eight-month duration of whatever we were I believed you when you told me you had no reason to be anything other than honest. When you said you were busy with work, I believed you. When you said you were too busy for a relationship, I told my friends that I loved the passion you had for your career. I didn’t want to believe that you just didn’t have the balls to tell me the truth.

When you started to ghost me I went over every detail of the only night we ever spent together. I fixated on the small details of ever interaction we ever had. If you weren’t going to tell me why I wasn’t good enough, I was going to find it. The issue with us wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough, it was that you weren’t willing to give me an honest chance. You lied to me like a coward. There is so much I want to say to you, but I know I will never get that chance. You decided to be done with me and discarded me like I was nothing. That hurt, and it made me vengeful. I wanted to make you feel as worthless as I did, but that would get me nowhere.

For months I longed to be over you. I wanted to stop thinking about you when I listened to Houndmouth or the Stones. I needed to stop caring that you ignored my texted and unfollowed me on Twitter. For whatever reason, I couldn’t shake my feelings for you. I begged to be freed from the lingering pain that surrounded my thoughts about you, and undenounced to you I was given that sovereignty in the form of a tweet. I am ashamed to admit I checked your Twitter account as long as I did, but this isn’t about my mistake, it’s about yours.

Someone tweeted asking if guys were as transparent as they claimed to be. Since you feel the need to share your opinions with everyone, you responded inspiring a conversation about the gullibility of females. You told this person that you constantly use the excuse that “you’re ‘too busy with work’ because broads fall for it all the time,” sound familiar? The pain I felt reading those words was soul crushing. I felt as if everything between us was a lie. I don’t trust too many people, and knowing I trusted you while you filled my head with bullshit totally fucked me up.

Do you have any idea what it is like to want something so bad only to realize you never stood a chance? That is my unfortunate reality with you. I hate that you looked at me so carelessly, whereas I looked at you with amazement. I couldn’t believe that someone like you was so interested in me. I was such a cliché that it makes me sick just thinking about it. I keep trying to decide what the worst part of knowing you has been, but each time I think I’ve landed on it I come up with something even worse. For instance, I hate how you shared so much with me without giving a shit about the impact you had on my life. I hate you for leading me on. Most of all, I hate you because I still care about you.

You move through life unaffected, yet I am crippled by your existence. You made me into a joke. I wish I never felt anything toward you, and most of all I wish that I never found your Twitter. If we never met I wouldn’t feel the weight of the world crushing my heart every night. When I close my eyes to sleep I can’t help but wonder what you’re doing. Are you staying up with a glass of Wild Turkey working on reports? Are you rambling about your day to some other girl? Or, are you watching a documentary on Netflix because too many thoughts are running through your head and you want it to all just slow down?

I just wish I knew why you couldn’t be honest. Hopefully, this letter will be the last time I feel anything toward you. With each key I tap I can feel the butterflies that once fluttered in anticipation of hearing from you beginning to die. I know that nothing I do will change the way you treated me or push you to talk to me again. If I waited for an explanation from you, I would be waiting until the end of time. I can’t make you feel bad for what you did, and I can’t make you see the damage you caused. Eventually, you will be nothing but a faint memory of something that never was, a broken love story if you will. Goodbye KN, oh and fuck you too.

With Love,

E.