To my first heartbreak,

I can't count. I can't count the number of times I looked at the clock and struggled to see that it read 3 a.m. because of the tears I was holding back, knowing I had to be awake in 3 hours, but not able to sleep because you’d made me feel as if I wasn't good enough. So I laid awake wondering if I was worth anything at all. I can't count the bottles of concealer and containers of foundation it took to cover the bags under my eyes. I can't count the times I fought with my family because of the person that the pain you caused was turning me into, and I can't count the friendships I lost because I thought saving what we had was more important.

You’ve made it hard- impossible, even — for another person to love me or for me to love anyone else, because you've ruined my trust. You begged me to let down my walls for you, and so I did.

And you destroyed what was behind them.

You left me hanging. Now I will notice parts of you in every guy who comes along. I won't be able to give him 100 percent, even if he deserves it, because I'll always think that tomorrow he could wake up and realize I'm not what he wants, just like you did. You left bruises, though you never hit me. The pain you afflicted is far worse than any superficial or physical discomfort I've ever felt. You've given me a heartache that never totally goes away, that's always there like a constant, dull pressure deep in my stomach. It worsens when I hear a song that we listened to together, or when I smell your cologne on someone else. Sometimes it feels like you see me doing well so you decide to pop back up again, out of nowhere. I am reminded of you everywhere I go, and even when you're not around you still have a painful grip on my reality. I hate that.

I've spent so much time trying to figure it out, trying to understand why I was never enough. I wasted so much time trying to get closure from you, trying to rationalize why you would put me through this. But there is no rational explanation for it. There’s nothing you could say that could take my hurt away or walk me through your thought process. You took my heart and you shattered it into a million different pieces, but you didn’t stop there. You then took each individual piece and broke it in half, too, past the point of recognition. I have spent the last year of my life trying to fit the pieces back into place, but some days it seems like an impossible puzzle to solve.

What hurts the most is how casually you did it all. One day, I was everything to you. I had all your attention and I felt like I was beautiful. But the next day everything had changed. You had me competing for your attention, always giving me just enough to crave more, but never enough to feel like I was actually worth a damn. You threw me out like I was just a candy wrapper you’d casually throw into the garbage can after you’d taken out all the good stuff. And that’s what breaks me, that I am not actually worth keeping around after you see what’s under the wrapper after you break down the walls. You left and you broke me repeatedly, time after time, so damn easily, that who’s to say everyone else won’t do the same? Because of you, I am more self-conscious than before. I never go out without makeup on. I notice every little blemish and imperfection on my skin, and in my personality. My flaws seem to stand out so much more vibrantly than they did before.

I think the reason I can’t seem to fit the puzzle pieces of my heart perfectly back together is because you took a few pieces with you when you left. Not necessarily vital pieces, but random ones that the picture can’t be whole without. I cannot count the times since I left home that I've wished I’d never met you. Sometimes I'll go weeks without thinking about you and I'll finally start to feel confident in myself again. But like I said, you've still got that constant grip on my reality, even when you're not around. I still have those bad days. Those days when I question what I'm really worth, when I look in the mirror and I hate what I see. I still wonder if I'll ever really be “what someone is looking for”, or someone somebody could love. You've forever turned me into a person who second guesses myself, and I don't know if that was your initial intention, but thanks for that, jackass.

The only good thing you've ever done for me is to force me to be strong, but I don't even want to give you the credit for that. Because of you, I had to learn how to be enough for myself even when I wasn't enough for the person who meant the world to me. Because of you, I was forced to rebuild myself from nothing. Because of you, I will never tell someone I love them if I don't mean it from the deepest part of my heart. I'm not freshly wounded anymore. Nowadays, I hardly even waste my time being mad at you. Lately, when I think about you, I mostly feel sorry for you. Sorry that you never got to experience the person I really am, that you only ever knew me as depressed and angry because that was the person you turned me into. I'm sorry that you never got to know how much love I really have to give, and that you found pleasure in trying to put out that fire. I feel sorry for you because you walked away from a person who would have walked a thousand miles for you.

I have come to realize that you cannot begin the next chapter of your life if you continue to re-read the previous one and that the pages keep turning and even if you're stuck they don't slow down or stop for anyone. Because of you, I'm no longer the person I once was, and my heart is not whole. But I'm rebuilding. And while it is hard, it's not impossible. So thank you for the strength, but f*ck you for the heartache.

Not yours anymore,

Maggie