to M

it’s been a year since we last spoke, probably for the better (i know this but it doesn't make it any easier). the way he hurt me has not completely healed, even after all this time, even after having other lovers.

when we first met, i was unsure about moving further but he was certain, at least, this is what he swore. after a few attempts of leaving him before any real feelings awoke in me, he finally convinced me that everything would be okay. that we would work out and he wouldn't hurt me or make a fool of me. and i believed him. the first of many mistakes.

a couple of months pass, and i was in deep. i knew it was a short amount of time but i didn't care. because that's what love was, right? spontaneous and limitless? i thought he was good, i swore it. to my mother, my closest friends, even my older brother. the most cliche thing to come out of my mouth, “he isn't like the other boys, he is so good” mistake number two. it was my first time thinking i was in love, i didn't know any better. and when i tasted the honey that dripped off of his tongue when he spoke sweet things, i thought the honey was made just for me. he said he loved me, he said i was the only one, he said i was better than the ones that stood before me. whatever he said, it was. because it was him, and how could he ever lie? no, he’s too good to lie. lying is what other boys did and didn't i swear he was nothing like them? i think it’s funny, i would tell him how sweet he was and he would say “trust me, i’m really not” but i didn’t listen. mistake after mistake. i know better now.

nothing changed for a while. it thought we were in deep but i was completely unaware that i would come to realize that it was only me. i was the only one who meant what i said, i was the only one who wasn’t lying, i was the only one who was giving love. and oh, how hurt was i going to be when i found out that there was a big difference between lust and love. that’s what he was really here for. that’s why he wanted me. so i could send him pictures, so he could hear me moan his name, so i could let him park the car at the park and climb in the backseat to do what lovers do. i went home that night, his lips still lingering on my chest. i closed my eyes, thinking of him and the way he tasted.

that next morning was the first time that heartache hit me so hard that i couldn’t breathe. it was the first time i didn’t feel my heart beating in my chest. it couldn’t be. but my own eyes wouldn’t lie to me the way he did. i lay there, accepting what he had done to me. i’d been ghosted. blocked from calling him, texting him, being in his life. and it hurt. because that's when the realization slapped me in the face. he didn't mean any of the sweet things he said. he didn't really love me. he used me. and then threw me away. and there i was, sobbing because the feelings that i had were real and they weren't reciprocated.

that was the first time a boy ever hurt me that badly. i wasn't able to eat. i would be going about my day and suddenly be unable to breathe when he entered my daydreams. reminiscing on the things he told me made me nauseous. i felt betrayed because i told him everything about me. my dreams, fears, secrets. i told him i couldn't handle being left. i told him i was afraid of being made a fool. and still, he hurt me in every way he promised he wouldn't.

the first thing i did was blame myself. what did i do wrong? did i say the wrong thing? was my intimacy not good enough? is it because i wasn’t skinny enough? did he think i wasn’t pretty enough? what do i need to do differently to make him want me again? i thought i was so in love that i needed his attention and his validation. i wanted to hear him tell me how good i was. i wanted him to only want me and no one else. because i only wanted him and no one else. i was so willing to change anything about myself that he wanted me to.

and this went on for the next three years (maybe even every now and then to this day). because i let him hurt me the same way he did the first time, over and over again. at that point, i knew he didn't love me as i did him. i also knew that because i wanted him so bad, i was willing to settle for the only piece of himself that he was willing to give me. lust. when i look back, a quote pops into my head, "how empty of me to be so full of you".

its been a year. ive grown since then. ive tried to heal from the ache he left in my heart. i don't really think of him anymore and when i do, it doesn't hurt as much. but still, i know that if he came back to my city, my heart would begin to beat a little faster. i know if he called me and i heard his voice asking to pick me up, i wouldn't be able to breathe for a minute. i know we would spend a night in the back seat of his car, like we used to at the park. and i know all of the feelings would rush back like a tsunami. because the truth is, my heart hurts, but it still beats for you. even if yours doesn't beat for me.