To the Girl I Used to Love

I was there for you. No matter what.

I would open my door to you at 3 am and take you into my arms and hold you, telling you it would be okay and wiping your tears away with my kisses.

I made you laugh. I'd make up some ridiculous story just to see you smile. I sent you pictures of dogs I'd found on the internet; the goofier, the better.

I'd make you playlists of happy songs, and play them in the car for you until you sang along with me.

I tried my best to understand why you didn't want me around; that it wasn't personal and that you just needed space.

I would stay up late with you and help you finish your projects, help you draft emails to your professors about why your homework was late, emails to your boss about why you couldn't work, and that you needed help but didn't know how to ask for it.

You sat on my bedroom floor and cried for hours one rainy Sunday, and I brought you tea and blankets and held you when you wanted it and left you alone when you didn't.

But you were never there for me.

You were never there for me and I fell in love anyway.

I fell in love, hard.

I fell in love with your smile and the way you rolled spliffs.

I fell in love with your kisses and our days spent in bed, naked and entwined.

I fell in love with your style and your ability to get me to do whatever you wanted just by squeezing my hips or kissing my neck.

I fell in love with our adventures and our drunken evenings spent giggling and making pizza. That day we went skinny dipping at the creek and then made love in the waterfalls will forever be etched in my memory.

I fell in love while watching you drive. One hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh—like a goddamn Taylor Swift song. I fell in love with your raspy, post-cigarette voice, and the flutter of excitement it sent down my spine when you whispered in my ear.

I fell in love with your laughter and jokes, your humor and joy.

I fell in love with your flaws, your anxieties and your low days. I knew I couldn't fix them but I wanted to try anyway.

And I did try.

Your friends told me that you would've been lost without me—that if I hadn't been there for you, you wouldn't have made it.

I tried to support you in every way I knew how.

I guess being in love with you wasn't the support you needed.

But you hurt me. You broke my heart into a million pieces and left me in the dust.

I cried on my bedroom floor for hours and you didn't bring me tea and blankets or hold me.

I had to watch you move on without me and be just fine, as if the past year of intimacy and friendship and love had meant nothing to you.

As if I had meant nothing to you.

I still see you moving on, and I still see the bad days, too. My days haven't been so bright either but you're not the first person I think of to ask for help when I need it.

I don't hurt when I hear your voice anymore. It doesn't bother me when I see you with your friends, our friends, without me.

I don't need you anymore.

You can't hurt me anymore, because I no longer love you.

I still care about you, and I wish you well. You know that.

But you can't hurt me anymore.