Listen.
I still love you. I've always loved you, from the second we sat next to each other in 1st period English. I loved you when all of our friends pooled our money to buy you the one Hetalia thing you wanted for Christmas. I loved you when you laughed and when you cried. I loved you when you brought me flowers you grew in you backyard and told me you loved me, and I remember loving you so much that I had a video prepared. It was me, playing guitar and singing a sappy love song I found on Youtube. I remember that the composer's name was Dodie Clark.
You were the first girl I admitted to myself that I loved after a childhood of catholic schools and normalcy. I feel like I should hate you for throwing me into a world of not knowing who I was and stress over if you loved me back. But I don't. I can't, because you were the most beautiful, kindest person I ever met.
Did I ever tell you that you were my first kiss?
Yeah, I lied about that. You were also the first person I held hands with.
You were my first real love. And it hurts whenever your new girlfriend talks about you because I used to be her, and now I'm not. You fell in love with her so fast and left me reeling when I found out you kissed her. She insists that we had mutually ended the relationship. You never told me we were over. I thought that the next time I saw you we would kiss and I would cry and tell you I had missed you so much and you would be telling me to stop crying before you start. I dreamed for so long of seeing you again.
But no. The next time I saw you you were holding hands with her, on the way to her house. It felt like a slap.
I'm not telling you to stop being happy with her. I want you to be happy. But I also want you to know that I'm not. I still love you so much it hurts and I miss you so so much.
Goodbye.
