At 14, he’ll leave you for your best friend. You’ll be alone for the first time, trying to piece back the pieces of a heart so young and so afraid that it has no idea what’s in store. You’ll scribble shitty love poems on the margins of your notebooks, take up smoking for two days and hide in the little crevice down by the beach that you call your own. You’ll watch powerless as the two people you were meant to care about the most drift away from you. At 14, you won’t know how to rebuild yourself. This will be your saving moment.
At 21, he’ll leave you because he doesn’t want to hurt you anymore. He’ll argue that you’re both toxic and deserve people who won’t poison each other’s minds as much. You’ll stop eating, stop moving. You’ll skip class and ignore the phone calls from friends
trying to lift your spirits with wine and meaningless conversations. It will seem like the end of the world, but the world always finds a way to start over. At 21 you’ll feel like a broken heart can actually kill you.
At 22, he’ll say it’s not you, it’s him. He’ll tell you he wants to be alone, that he doesn’t want to be tied down just yet. You’ll hug and promise each other an equally blooming friendship that compares to the romance you both had. Two weeks later you’ll find out he’s dating someone else. He’d been dating someone else. You’ll grovel and ask for a second chance, a chance to prove to him that you’re better than anything he could ever hope to find elsewhere. You’ll betray everything you told yourself you’d never do again.
At 23, you’ll destroy yourself completely because it’s the only way to start over.
At 24, you’ll be the one who leaves. Not on purpose, not because things went wrong, but because the universe had bigger plans and the timing, as it usually goes in overplayed romance stories, was off. You’ll trace your fingers along his spine and whisper that you’ll miss him. You’ll kiss him goodbye multiple times, hoping to freeze that moment in time for as long as humanly possible. He’ll mumble a few incoherent words as you walk out the door with everything packed into a bag that seems light compared to the thumping in your chest.
At 24, the promise of a new love will hurt more than the passing of an old one.
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This is my letter to you, the boy who emotionally destroyed me