I was twenty years old when I fell in love with a drug addict. He was and is the biggest mistake of my young life. But he is also my favorite mistake. He ruined me for anyone else. I loved him before he discovered his vice and even after, I still loved him.

Before the drugs, we had a complicated situation. We weren't a couple, but we were, in my opinion, better than the average couple. I could say anything to him and he could say anything to me. There were none of the complicated little things. We didn't have to get to know each other's friends because we already knew them. We didn't worry about meeting family or where we were spending holidays. It was just sex and good conversation. I wasn't supposed to fall in love. But I fell hard. I like to believe that he fell for me too, but I don't think he fell the same way I did. He wasn't really in love with me.

I didn't notice the addiction at first. Not much had changed, at first. Then he started asking me for money. He never did that. He started lying to me, which again, wasn't a common occurrence. There was no need to lie in our situation. We had never had a reason to lie to each other. I think I chose not to see it. I told myself it was something else, anything else. I knew he had always used drinking as a crutch and so I blamed that. Little did I know, it was so much worse. He asked me for money more and more; each time with a different excuse, a different lie. Knowing, that no matter what, I would help him.

There is no worse feeling in the world than being used by someone you love and trust. Especially an addict. I didn't believe he was using until five different friends told me it was true. Even then, I didn't want to believe it. Then one day I got a text, from a mutual friend. She asked me to come over because he had gone to her and her boyfriend seeking help. He told them that I was giving him the money to support his habit. But that's not what I thought the money was for. I truly believed I was helping him; fix his car, pay a ticket, pay his tool bill, buy medicine his insurance wouldn't cover, pay for a present for his mom.... I could list the lies for days. And as our mutual friend was telling me about his addiction, I cried. I cried for every time I believed him, for every time I defended him, for every cent I gave him. But mostly, I cried for myself. I was in love with an addict. And even though he had pulled every lie and used me, I still cared about him.

After that, we stopped talking for a little while. I started dating someone else and from what I heard, he was working on getting clean. I still thought about him, pretty much daily, but I stayed away. And then I ran into him. I saw him at a local festival and my world flipped again. He asked if we could go somewhere and talk and I agreed. He apologized for everything and told me he had gotten sober and that he wanted to be with me. Really be with me. This time though, I was hesitant. But I wanted so badly to believe him... and so I did. I believed every word. I eventually broke up with my boyfriend, for other reasons, and immediately went back to the unhealthy tornado that was the situationship of me and the addict.

I was sucked back in, in no time at all. He had me wrapped around his finger. He knew all the right words to say. I do believe that a part of him cared deeply about me, but he never really loved me. But whether or not he was, I was committed. I was faithful even though we weren't technically dating. I was head over heels, stupid in love. I pushed away people that were close to me because they tried to help me out of the hole that he was dragging me into.

When I took that first pregnancy test, I freaked out. I cried. I knew he wouldn't want to keep it... and I knew I couldn't keep him and the baby. I had to make a decision. It was one or the other. I couldn't have both. I told him about the pregnancy, and like I had predicted, he freaked out and instantly demanded I get an abortion. After he calmed down a little, he told me it was up to me. When I told him I wanted to keep it, he called me selfish and a ton of other hurtful words. He accused me of having sex with someone else; told me I just wanted it to be his kid. He gave me one thing when he said that; he gave me the realization that I didn't want it to be his kid. That I didn't want my kid to love a drug addict like I did. I wouldn't wish this hell upon anyone, but especially not my own child.

We went back and forth arguing for most of my pregnancy. When it came down to it, he was back with his dark mistress and I knew it. I didn't tell him when I went into labor. One of my friends texted him to let him know. I didn't send him pictures of her. I didn't ask him to sign a birth certificate. I didn't even put his name down. A few weeks after she was born he texted me to ask how she was doing. We were very cordial. It was like a forced conversation. I cried after and we haven't spoken since.

I don't know what I'm going to tell my daughter when she's older, but eventually, I will tell her the whole truth. I don't want her to make the same mistakes I did. I think about him everyday of my life. I never stopped wondering about him. I never stopped caring. I pray for him every night. I hope he gets the help he needs. But I will never forgive him. Not for leaving me, that I have forgiven. But for making me fall in love with him, knowing damn well he can never love me back the same way. Every date I go on, I compare them to him. Every laugh with someone else feels forced. Every kiss just doesn't feel the same. Our hometown has become more like a haunted town. I can't go anywhere without remembering a time we spent there. I can't go to our church without seeing a member of his family. I can't even look at my own daughter, without seeing his smile. He is impossible to forget.

Amongst all the bad, there are things I'm glad I remember. Things from before the drugs took over; all the long drives we took, just talking and joking with no destination in mind. All the times he made fun of my taste in music and listened to it anyway. Laying in bed watching "The Breakfast Club" and "Who Framed Roger Rabbit". And singing along with every song from "Pitch Perfect". Every time he texted me that he missed me when I was away at school. Every spontaneous weekend trip home just to see him for one night. Waking up to him cuddling with my dog instead of me and not even being mad because they were so cute. But mostly, I just miss talking to him. I'm thankful for all of our deep meaningful conversations throughout the years. No matter how much I want to hate him, I can't. His addiction didn't just ruin him; it ruined me too.