You ruined me.

In elementary school, you made me feel important and made me feel like I belonged. You made me think I was popular and that people liked me. I felt like our friendship may have been too good to be true, but I let those feelings go and just went with it. I wish I would have listened to my gut.

Yet you ruined me.

It has been about eight years since seventh grade. I would go to your house with our group of friends on Friday night for sleep overs and we would have a good time. We would watch movies, eat popcorn, swim in your pool, and even go shopping together. But when I was the first one to go to sleep, you would put toothpaste on my face so I would break out; you would draw on my face with eyeliner; you would freeze my bra; you would steal the Minnie Mouse doll I had hidden in my bag so that you could taunt me with it the next Monday at school.

You ruined me.

All the mean words you said to me about not wearing make up and having a perm ruined my self esteem. Even after you stopped taunting me and moved away, I never felt pretty - and I still don't feel pretty. It didn't matter if people complimented me on my outfits or my new hair cut, or how well I did on my solo that weekend. I still felt less than. I felt like I didn't deserve their compliments. You taught me to be that way.

You ruined me.

Because of you, I struggle making friends. I struggle with confidence. I struggle to trust new people. Because of you, I am too afraid to send a boy a simple "hey" because you told me I was inconveniencing them. You told me boys would never like me and I believed you. I still believe you. You told me I was awkward. You told me I was worthless. You told me I had no friends. You told me I would amount to nothing. You told me to die.

But I lived.

I struggle daily to put the past behind me. I try to tell myself that what you did to me made me stronger, but all I possess is a shell forged with thick, mangled, metaphorical scar tissue from every time you lashed me with your hateful words. I have to look at those scars every day and tell myself that everything is okay and that I am worth something because I don't see that when I look in the mirror. I see someone who is still insecure even though the rest of the world tells her she has nothing to be insecure about.

And you did that to me.

How do you live with yourself?

Even after I have forgiven you, why do you still have this lingering effect on my psyche that I cannot shake.

You did that to me.

Don't you ever forget that.