To the one who wasn't the one:

In the beginning I thought you were the universe's gift to me from having to deal with all the sh*t my eating disorder has put me through. You were funny, you were smart, and you were caring. I thought I'd hit the jackpot.

You were chivalrous enough to walk on the side of the road nearer to the cars to protect me from oncoming traffic. You squeezed my hand a little tighter whenever we were about to pass a group of people, as if you wanted to remind me that you were there. You kissed my hair whenever you pulled me close and complimented me every chance you got. When I looked into your eyes I got this sort of fizzy feeling, as if I'd downed a soda too quickly. You made me laugh harder than I have in forever, and you gave me the kind of butterflies I didn't believe I'd ever feel again.

However, my knight in shining armor suddenly rusted and became heartless and cold. You dismissed my needs, wants, and desires. You made me feel like I had to live up to a certain standard in order to be with you. And as if that weren't enough, you did all this without a shadow of a doubt in your mind; as far as you were concerned, you were entirely in the right.

I still remember being confused when you came back into the room and told me, "I think it's time for you to leave." I thought that time must have passed far more quickly than I was aware of, so out the door I went. Then I tried to reach for your hand, but you kept it determinedly stowed in your pocket. "Are you okay?" I asked.

No answer.

"Are you?" I asked again.

You looked down at me incredulously. I still can't get that expression out of my mind; the face I had grown accustomed to seeing grinning at me from across the table at a restaurant or looking deeply into my eyes as we sat along the banks of the Charles River completely dissipated, and like a Jekyll and Hyde moment, there was a monster standing in front of me.

"Seriously?" you said, and the illusion of you as the perfect guy for me was shattered into a million tiny pieces.

Seriously? The only "seriously" I can think of is "Seriously, why the f*cking hell did I stay with you for so long?"

In about a millisecond you demonstrated that not only were you not the caring, kind, understanding individual I had mistaken you for, but rather, you were the complete opposite. Arrogant, conceited, self-absorbed, and completely deluded.

Seriously? That word still echoes in my head from time to time. No, I meant it as a joke. I was kidding when I voiced my discomfort and my fears. I was merely being facetious when I told you I needed more time. It was all just some elaborate scheme to get you to laugh; why aren't you laughing?

Because it wasn't. It wasn't funny. It wasn't a joke. I have never been so serious in my life. My eating disorder has caused me to suffer through some pretty f*cking awful things, not the least of which is extreme body dysmorphia. Essentially, this means that I am incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of being valued in any way involving my body. I find myself disgusting, unattractive, and altogether unappealing; the idea that someone could think anything different is laughable.

But I am slowly learning how to love myself. At a snail's pace, admittedly, but nonetheless learning.

So I managed to gather myself up after you so rudely dismissed me, hopped on a bus that took me bad home, and didn't shed so much as one tear. My sense of self-worth was shot, but I knew I deserved better than that. No one deserved to be treated with such callous contempt.

You promised me when you left me that you would contact me soon. Days passed with no word from you, and I began to wonder whether any of the words you'd whispered into my ear or laughingly teased me with were true, either.

Finally, you reached out with a tentative "Good morning." I felt no desire to answer. But you kept at it, sending a couple more messages until I finally got tired of it and decided to send you some sort of ultimatum. I spent several minutes laboring over the words, trying to make sure what I was saying encompassed all that I wanted to communicate to you after so long of a time without any dialogue. I wanted to tell you that you had broken my trust, that I felt like I had been treated without the proper politeness and kindness, and that I needed to be treated with far more respect going forward. Then I mashed "send" with my thumb and waited for your reply.

You told me you wanted to call. I deliberated for a little bit and then decided that I was brave enough to consent.

What a completely pointless conversation. I was expecting an apology that had been well-practiced and rehearsed; I was expecting remorse and an acknowledgement that what I felt was not only real, but entirely legitimate.

Instead, I got more confirmation that you were truly a wolf in sheep's clothing. "I'm not going to waste my time," you told me, your voice flat and emotionless.

I couldn't keep a slightly derisive chuckle from escaping my pursed lips as I pondered how to reply. If I even wanted to say something back to someone so ridiculously conceited. "Well," I finally replied, "You don't have to worry about that anymore."

I resent the implication that I was a waste of time. To dismiss the time we had spent together as irrelevant shocked me. It hurt me.

Because deep down, despite my unruffled demeanor and short reply, I was hurting. I was losing my best friend. And that's never something I've dealt with well. I've always attributed their loss to some fault of mine.

In this case, I know I did nothing wrong. But that doesn't take away the hurt. It doesn't take away the desire to have the person I thought you were back. The person who sent me funny pictures with ridiculous captions that always made me laugh, even if I was feeling down. The person who did that silly thing where the couple finishes each others' sentences with me. The person who looked at me like I was the sun in the sky.

I know that the right person is out there. I know there exists a guy who will give me the respect I deserve and the kindness I expect. The one who will treat me like the queen I am. Because that is what everyone deserves: to be treated with the utmost care and love.

To the guy who wasn't the one:

I'm sorry that you had to be such a d*ck. I'm sorry that I spent all that time with you. I'm sorry you were so narcissistic that you couldn't even offer a half-hearted apology. I'm sorry you thought I was a waste of time. I'm sorry you're probably lonely and unhappy. I'm sorry that I'm better off without you, because for a time, I thought I was at my best with you by my side.

But all that pales into comparison for what you should be sorry for: that you weren't it.