Dear Embarrassment That I Dated,

       Remember when I cared for you? I’m sure someone of your ignorance can hardly even remember the first night we met. Considering you were absolutely hammered, almost 21, and I was only 16. Well, let me refresh your memory. You were kind, funny, and kissed me with such ease and charm. For someone who couldn’t even drive a car without a licensed driver, I was always the mature one with my friends. I was always the girl to never get fooled by boy’s hidden intentions. Yet, I gave you my heart. We talked, we hung out, and we scurried from point A to point B so goddamn fast.

       Before I knew it, we went from being too frightened to get each other angry, to you picking me apart at every opportune moment you had. I found myself caught up in the drama, in the challenge of constantly having to reel you back in, and even listening to your scripted apologies. It was a sick game we played back and forth; I would find out you cheated on me, and I would go and do the same thing back, refusing to be the victim who let herself sit there and cry over you.

       Now, I’ve been done completely for three months now. I used to scroll to your name in my cellphone, trying to conjure up ways to have a reason, or even an excuse, to text you. But now? Now, I laugh when your number comes up on my cellphone screen. It’s you and your pathetic attempt at trying to rekindle things. I’m shining in a new city, and you’re stuck in our dumpy town with nothing. You finally understand what you had, what it feels like to be alone, and I know for a fact that i’m the one who got away. Almost three years of your insanity, I’m free; and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.

Sincerely,

The One That Got Away