My friend would probably call you the anti-Christ of my life, but you and I were never together, not in my head at least.

In my mind, you were my friend, my best friend, and that was it. I guess you thought I owed you something, because you always made me feel guilty for something or another. You were the type of boy my parents warned me about. The guy who manipulates, who only wants one thing, who pushed me to grow up faster when I didn't want to.

You never touched me, thank God, but you kissed me and you held me in a way only couples should be. You wrote me notes about a Romeo and Juliet type of love. You told me sweet things and you wanted more and more, but I guess in hindsight, I just wanted, pure, sweet companionship. You went too fast for me, but I felt guilty, because I figured that it was my fault you thought we were something more than what we were, but I told you time and time again that we were friends and that's as far as my love extended.

I was never really attracted to you honestly, I never saw you as anything more than a friend. You wrote about your undying love for me, you played guitar, and sang to me. To this day, I cannot listen to SecondHandSerenade because of the memories attached to it. I would cry in confusion but you took it as the feelings being reciprocated. I didn't know how to end it at all.

You soon introduced me to your friends via text, and they were vulgar, and acted older than any of us were. They were our age, they were 14, 15, but they acted like they were 18. I thought it was cool, because I was always the lonely dork that no one cared about. They pushed us closer and when I resisted, they called me the most horrible names ever. They texted me things like "slut, b*tch" and you never defended me, because you were the wounded one who apparently did nothing but love.

You were wounded, and I saw that. You were broken, and I saw that.

I tried so hard to help you, I wanted to rescue you from whatever pit you were in, to help you see life in a whole different light, to be hopeful. I wanted to be your friend and I wanted to help, because I just thought, that if I could help, and if your life started being a little brighter, then maybe my inner angst wouldn't seem so bad, and I would feel good about myself.

You saw this, and you thought I loved you unconditionally. I lied for you, I lied because you asked me to. I broke the trust of my mom. I isolated myself from my good friends for two years, and you know what happened when you and I were through? They accepted me back. I did not understand why, but they did. I only hung out with you and other girls who were just as easily manipulated and persuaded. They told me that I should be thankful for the love you were pouring onto me, that I was lucky because of something or another.

I was scared, I didn't know what to say or do.

I was afraid that my parents wouldn't understand me and that they would think it was my fault and that I was doing all of this on purpose. I was ashamed to tell my friends. I couldn't tell you I didn't love you because then you would make me feel guilty and I would get to my phone with messages on messages of the most vulgar names on earth.

Then I would say sorry, but I couldn't just say sorry, I practically had to beg you to be ok again. Beg. Beg. Beg. I would be subjected to such humiliation, to bring myself to beg for your attention. It was honestly pathetic and I wish I could go back and smack myself across the face. I want to go back and tell my younger self that your rants of being depressed should be dealt by a professional and your musings of suicide could not be helped by the likes of 14 year old me. I want so desperately to take back those years.

One day in the middle of all the lies and manipulation, I lied to my parents to get you to come to Disneyland with us, and it was the worst day ever. I got in trouble, it was the first day of my forever grounding and it was the day you kissed me without my permission. If you ever read this, I wonder if you'll remember...it was at space mountain. I was in a huge white jacket that made me look like a marshmallow and when my mom and stepdad weren't looking, you wrapped your arms around my waist and moved my head to the left and kissed my neck.

My stomach lurched, and I froze. I had never kissed anyone, and I was saving it. I was saving my kiss for someone else, and even though it was a kiss on the neck, it was so intimate, it felt like you took away a special gift from me. It felt like you just showed up and said "you're mine and I'll do whatever I want." I was so happy when you let go of me. When you held my hand my hands were sweating, not because I was nervous of getting caught, but I so desperately wanted it all to stop and I wanted to go home. You had violated the idea of the purity of intimacy in my head.

The next week, I was without a phone and you tried to talk to me, you tried to make me believe that you loved me so much. Then out of nowhere...after school one day you took me to a place in school where the security cameras didn't work, and where faculty hardly walks by. Do you remember this? There you were, a guy nearing 6 feet probably 150 pounds or over and me, a 5'5 girl who weighed a mere 120-130 and perpetually afraid of hurting you.

You stopped me in the spot you had in mind, you had me stand up against the wall, you talked for a bit. I really don't remember what you said, I just remember feeling dread, and fear. I felt dirty and disgusting. I felt like I didn't deserve a chance to beautifully and wonderfully give my first kiss as a gift. I felt like I didn't matter anymore, all that mattered is what I could give to make one stay. I remember hoping that someone would walk by.

Getting in trouble or caught was way better than actually standing there with you. I felt like throwing up, I felt like running. You towered over me, smiled, and started leaning in. Again, I froze, thinking that the one thing I had to offer would be taken from me, not by will, but force. I prayed that something would happen where this wouldn't happen, and thankfully we heard footsteps and I took the second distraction as a way to leave.

When everything with you and I ended, I cried. I didn't cry immediately, because I officially told you it was done during the beginning of tenth grade, because I just couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand to be called horrible names because I told the truth. I couldn't stand to be controlled the way I was, what with not being able to talk to, look at, or laugh with other guys. I couldn't stand not being close to my other friends, it hurt me.

I was mentally, and emotionally broken.

I would say physically because whenever you held me, it was a little too tight. The embrace from behind felt malicious and your kiss felt like betrayal. When it was over, I sobbed. My heart had hurt so much, and no one knew that. My mom and stepdad thought that my punishment was the natural order of my rebellion to their rule of "no boys until you graduate college," my friends only knew what I told them, people at church just thought I was a rebellious teen who was in sin, but it was a relief to be away from you. I sobbed because I was only left with regret, because I was left with the pain you and your friends caused. I was left with the memories of the attempts you made to take away something that I had been tenaciously fighting to protect.

You bursted my bubble and I soon stopped believing in true love. I thought all men were like you and I feared the idea of being vulnerable again. Saying things like "I love you" to people made me cringe. I would want to pull away as soon as any friend and even loved ones would say those words. I was mercilessly broken. I cried on the floor of my living room and eventually my room. I remembered days where I would get text after text after text calling me horrible names.

I remember times when you would try to manipulate me to say things that I didn't want to. I remember being so stupid and easily manipulated, I remember thinking why didn't anyone tell me that nice guys were the worse guys? I remember thinking that girls who were constantly single had the right idea, because they wouldn't have to endure tragedies such as ours. I remember thinking I would never be with a sensitive guy ever again, thinking that Hispanic men were bad for my health and that I would vow to be seriously vigilant when it comes to men.

Even though now, the thought of seeing you scares me to no end, I have learned things from that. You taught me to not trust just anybody, especially nice people. You taught me the need to bring up boundaries and to have a voice when something I don't like is happening. You taught me the "red flags" of a toxic relationship. I learned what depression looked like fully manifested. I learned how dark my own mind can be at the low points. I learned who my true friends were after the whole ordeal. I also befriended someone else, who introduced me to the harry potter books, and I began to learn to hope again.

You left after that year, and the next couple of years were the years I took for myself. I rebuilt myself, all by myself, and for myself. You tried adding me on social media a few times and my stomach lurches every time. The last I checked, you had a baby on the way, and I cannot say I'm surprised. I can't honestly say I hope you're 100% well, because I still feel the sting of our encounter very much.

All I can say is, I hope that you treat your baby's momma with full respect and that you take care of your baby as well as you possibly can, and that you're a good father to that child. I hope that somewhere along the way, you realize that whatever happened with us was foolish and also both of our faults. I am sorry for not being strong enough to end it sooner. That I am sorry for, but everyday I still live with those horrible names in my head, I live with those memories when I thought I was worthy of those names your friends called me.

I try every day though.

I fight with all that I can to push away those thoughts, to remind myself that not every guy out there is like you but to remind myself to be careful regardless. I constantly remind myself that I am beautiful and worthy to be defended and cherished. I deserve to be adored, and admired as an independent woman, and as the other half of a very strong team.

Also, during my time of rebuilding, I found feminism and our experience fueled me onward into the movement, because I found solidarity, I found a voice, and I found bravery to speak up for girls in any situation. You also taught me one very important thing: I can't be a savior to anybody. Because here is the thing about being a savior, you get crucified and the people who let you hang are the people you put all your effort into.

So in a way, I regret our time, but also...in a way, thanks for all that you taught me, and for being a kindling that helps fuel my fire.