I remember the day you told me that you hate me.

It was abrupt, out of the blue, but not completely unexpected.

I felt you slowly drifting farther and farther away

until you had completely vanished.

The only person who swore never to leave me. . . gone for good.

Other times when I had been broken,

you had been there to pick up the pieces,

but this time you were the one breaking me and I was alone.

You had me sitting under the covers of my bed

at two in the morning with puffy eyes and wet cheeks,

feeling angry at you but more so at myself.

Suddenly everything seemed inferior,

the once innocent whispers in the halls and laughter in the

courtyard now seemed directed towards me,

as if everyone else hated me like you did.

Everything brought back memories of you,

only half of which I could fool myself into forgetting.

You were a different person from the one I once knew so well.

You would glare at me with cold hatred in your eyes,

hatred I had only ever seen you direct towards other people.

I would seeing you laughing and joking with your newfound friends,

and while you were obviously fine, I was not.

Until one night,

my tears stopped coming, my breath stopped hitching,

and everything halted.

After weeks of having too many questions, I paused to ask myself

the one question that I had not yet considered,

Why do I care?

I realized I was now free of always worrying what you would think

and constantly doubting myself whenever you were near.

I was now free of never feeling good enough for you, and I was free

to stay out of the devastational drama

that you always seemed to leave in your wake.

Now that you were gone, I was free to be myself.

I smiled and I kept smiling  from that night on,

because I am so much happier without you.

It's not like I don't still feel sad while thinking of you

or cringe at the sound of your name,

I miss your comforting aura and your flawless presence,

I miss our old inside jokes, and all of our many memories,

But I don't miss you.