I Wore Jeans.

A Letter to Him

I've been beaten. I've been bruised. I've been black. I've been blue. But I've never really hurt until I met you.
I'm not telling my story, our story, to hurt you, to get attention, or to make you a villain. I'm telling it to set myself free. I spent what feels like forever begging you to love me, but I never asked me to love myself. If I did maybe I wouldn't have this story to share, so I won't put all the blame on you. I allowed it to happen at first, but by the end I knew nothing else. You should, and probably did, know better the entire time.
I loved you more then I believe you're even capable of loving. I ended the beginning of my life for you. I still care about you more then I should. I'm sure I'd be right there if you called. You'll never call though, you'll never care, and that's okay.
It's time for me to let go, and I don't mean just of what's left of the pieces of feelings I have for you. I mean I need to let go of the scars and secrets you've given me. I need to let go of the parts of me that scream when I see our old pictures and panic when I think I see you in public. I need to let go of tears that cry when certain songs play. Most of all I need to let go of the you I met first. The you that promised me the world, the you that smiled at me naked and knew exactly what to say when I cried. The you I fell in love with, because he's not the guy I broke up with.
So this letter to you, the way I chose to start my story. It's my first official goodbye. Please don't call me one day, please don't say hi if you see me anywhere, please don't come back into my life. Things are better this way. Thank you for the smiles and the love I thought we shared. I hope you turn out happy somewhere. Goodbye Riley. I'm no longer scared.