The problem here is this:
You held my hand as we conquered our fear together.
You held my hand and it felt unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
I wrote about you, you know. On the top of that tower.
Every single time my marker stained the tower, it was my letter to you. And when I switched our initials around, you saw it and you called it clever.
A little Punnett square.
Then you did it. You made me want to toss you off that tower.
You leaned over me and drew hearts next to our names.
Did you want to break me?
I made you promise to me that what happened up there, stayed there.
You have a girlfriend and I have my morals.
That’s not what I meant, anyway. Sometimes, emotions can do far more damage than anything physical ever could.
No, I meant my words to you would stay up there.
Up there for kids to read years from now, and yes, kids are cruel, so yes they’ll mock it.
And they will probably deface my letters to you, but I am content knowing it’s up there.
And I am content knowing you know this too.
There is no “what if?” here.
There is bad timing and the fact that I am just not good enough for you.
They painted over the punnett square.
It is now visible only if you peel back layers of paint.
Yes, I lost those. You let me.
Everything with you was cloudy and made me feel so unsure of myself that the only thing I was sure of was you.
Did you do that on purpose?
Continue to lead me on until all I saw was you. Nothing else, no one else could possibly hold all the answers to my questions.
That’s how I felt.
It took me months but the clouds parted. The sun shined.
I could list all the cliches of how wonderful my life is now that I am not suffocating from you.
For quite some time there, I was convinced there could never be another type of oxygen in the world other than the one you gave me.
But the air around you became contaminated with all the wrong we had done and all the rights we kept trying to make.
So I left.
And I did break my promise to not be another notch on the belt of people who left before me.
But you shattered your promise of not being another name on the list of those who’ve ruined me.
I know you miss me. That much is clear.
Because when you realized I was getting up to leave, you tried to hold me down.
You knew no one could ever care as well or as much as I did.
But you should not have had to lose me to appreciate me.
I was always yours. The problem is I was never mine.
I am not the person I was before you and I never will be again. Nor do I want to be.
I will never thank you for hurting me, you did not make me the stronger person I am today.
I did that.
And I will continue to heal.
I apologize that you were not able to swallow your pride long enough to tell me how much I meant to you because I know I did.
I will not forget this past year.
I will not forget you,