To the Boy who Broke my Heart

I just graduated from high school this year and during my senior year I decided to date a boy from the fencing team, which later on I joined for my own enjoyment. I went there joining saber, one of the three types of fencing you can do.

They say that the eyes can peer into the soul, but the question is, do they really? Because honestly, maybe then, I could have noticed everything you did and every little detail you were planning.

So, dear, the boy who broke my heart, you didn't break me down but, yes, you made me feel less of myself — but I dusted myself off with all the disgusting words said from your lips. I looked at you and evaluated why did I date junior? Why did drama arise and take form, like the day you almost hit me? But then again, we over by that time and I was with someone new.

Everyone warned me of you, like you were some demon or creature looking and stalking from the darkness. You broke up with me because you stayed virginal and I would not give up mine for yours. You only craved sex like dog in heat. Maybe I could have been called a tease for not giving it up, but I'd rather not see my clothes on your damn floorboard.

Nor would I want to see cum all over the backseats or front seats of your car, when you kept pushing me to give you a blowjob. Yet, it never happened because I was innocent to those things.

Sex was forever the only thing set in that mind of yours. Sex was not on my mind when I was with you. Even when holding hands, I think then, I had already lost interest.

I remember someone telling me there is difference between loving and lusting someone — with your heart vs your genitals. So, dear, the boy who broke my heart, our relationship was nothing more but stale cookies sitting on counter. It was nothing more but the stupidity of lust.

The way your hands were on someone else's breasts and behind...

I could have cheated on you with a friend who kept telling me, break up with him and be with me.

If I never kissed you, danced with you and said the words, "I love you," then just maybe I would have forgotten the run of the mill sentences and words you loved to text. I haven't thought about you in a long time till now, because my boyfriend raised your name up from the ashes.

I kept my virginity and it ate you up inside like termites. Yes, I'm not skinny or look a certain way that has men flocking to me, but personality is what should matter — not what the eyes see.

Looking back you said you loved my makeup, my body but those things should have been warnings. They should have dinged in my head like ringing. It should have shown me the disgusting person, you were hiding under that puppeteer facade.

You broke my heart, but I repaired it on my own and found someone who lightens my world up and kisses my wounds like no one else. Unlike you, he means it when he says the words I love you.

I mean those words to him, because I found and understand love now more than I ever could. He shows me what you could not and lets me understand how to love myself.

To say it completely, there will always be a difference between saying you love someone and being in love, because to be honest, I was neither one of those things with you.

Dear, the broke who broke my heart, I don't ever remember falling in love with you — because I never did.