February 16, 2009
By Anonymous

A place I cannot physically go to is the place where all your satisfactions are met. My body is a sacred place. As much as I liked you, I did not want you to slither and wrap yourself around it like the snake you called yourself. A place I never will or want to return to would be your basement where you made me laugh, called me beautiful, gave me a present, held me, where you attempted your attack, and where I was looking forward to going before I opened my mailbox. In Twilight, my favorite book you borrowed, you wrote me words I would have otherwise called beautiful if not directed towards me. I did not see your face, yet you hurt me more than anyone ever will. I did not expect a Relay4Life night would hand me my first kiss/boyfriend as quickly as you handed me the Dr. Pepper. Almost five months later, I found myself and the most vital organ breaking while I hid my tears until Mom left. Granted, we did not have the perfect relationship. You made me fall, literally, but never caught me. You could never hold onto my hand. People said I looked happy in our picture, heck in that frozen moment...I was (past tense). We were not Danielle and Calvin, Sean and Casey, and even Megan and David. Their relationships involve caring, loving, knowing, and are very admirable. I was never satisfied either, with my high expectations. With my expectations so out of reach, I did not like calling you my "boyfriend" or seeing us as "dating." I wanted to show you light and give you my heart. You blew out the candle and went down lower. I realize I am naive, you told me about your addiction. You said that was the night you tried to break-up with me but you were weak. Later, I believed when you said you were lucky having me. What's so strong about you now? You did not look me in the eyes but hid in the mailbox. You told me pressing numbers instead of moving your mouth. Thief of innocence and happiness, Did I ever make you happy? You did not answer that question the night we were in my front yard. Do you miss me at all? I want you to know they all take my side...Megan, Danielle, David said you were a jerk, and your sister Meredith said she was sorry. They don't even know the whole story. Selfishly, I hope they like me more than you. I want them to hate you and never go to your house again. By the way, I guarantee I heard more "I Love Yous" that week than you ever will. Funny, I told you I was going to make you love me. Guess you can't succeed at everything. My mom asked if I threw you away, meaning your pictures, the birthday card, and the poem. She wanted me to remember you, that part of my life. You are a place I never want to return as I burned it all in the fireplace, knowing the smiling face at me almost in flames would be the last I saw of you. You're still that permanent bee sting that won't go away. I thought I was over you and that creepy cute smile, those gorgeous eyes, and your smell I noticed first when I got in your car. Why did I sting when I overheard Danielle say your name? Why did it make me write "creep" in her yearbook? Why did I want to puke over the couples at Bold and Gold? Why did I crack when "I'll Be," a song you held me to and "Everytime We Touch," a song you liked so much played? You know, our break-up night, it felt like you raped me. I was stripped, exposed, cracked. You taught me what I already knew, that everything and everyone is temporary. I want you to know that I never want to see you as "evil" like you do, though it may be easy now. I wanted to hurt myself with the Christmas present I was going to give you, a knife. You already did it's job, hurting me, slitting, cutting, and making me bleed. I want to forgive you, but I can't. I haven't decided if I regret you. For a limited time, someone wanted me but not in the right way. I may have cared about you so much more than you know, but I do not know anything about you. I do not know how you felt at all, or if you felt anything. I just hope someday I'll finally be happy.

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