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A Letter To The Boy Who Played Me

You might be a player, but you didn't win this time.

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A Letter To The Boy Who Played Me
Justin Bruno

To the boy who played me,

Growing up my mom always told me that boys were immature and only wanted one thing, and through my experiences I learned that first hand. I think that's what made me even more excited for college. The idea that the boys were functioning adults who finally had a good head on their shoulders and a sense of direction. I was expecting the boys of high school to finally be men.

When I first met you, you seemed so different from all the other guys I had known. You seemed so genuine, kind, and big hearted. You seemed to be genuinely interested in me as a person, rather just my body. I saw this potentially going somewhere, and I was hopeful.

Before long that all changed. You stopped texting me, you stopped talking about me, and you stopped coming around. Things between us changed, and with no explanation given, I was extremely confused. It hurt me for awhile having no reason as to why things changed. I began to question myself; What did I do wrong? Was I not good enough? Was there something wrong with me? The more time that passed with my questions unanswered, the more broken I felt.

Suddenly, everything changed. In sharing my story with friends, I began to hear of so many other girls that you did the exact same thing to. I began to hear things you had been saying about me and about the situation, and I was no longer upset, I was angry.

How could someone treat someone as disposable? How could you think so highly of yourself and so low of others? How could you care about me so much one day and then talk so negatively about me the next? How could you hurt another human being as badly as you hurt me?

As the stories festered in my brain I realized something amazing:I dodged a bullet.

You are not a good guy. You are not genuine, or kind, or big hearted. You are cold, mean, and a player. You are not someone I should have wasted one minute of my time on or one minute question myself over. You are not the sun, I am.

You made me realize that age doesn't mean maturity, and that no matter how old some boys get they will always be children. You made me realize that I deserve a gentleman, someone who wants my heart more than he wants my body. You made me realize my worth, and that I am worth more than your subjective treatment. You made me realize that you are nothing to cry over, nothing to feel sorry over, and certainly nothing to resent myself over. You made me realize that I am strong and worthy.

You might be a player, but you did not win this time and you never will again.

Sincerely,

the girl who is better off without you.

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