To the boy who couldn’t love me (and probably isn’t read this):

I’m sorry for what we have become. The heartbreak and the hateful words and silence were never a part of the plan. I never wanted any of this for either of us. All I want is for you to be happy, and if your happiness is found in someone else, then I want you to have that person. I see now that you’re just not ready to settle down and be with me. And that’s okay. I can’t make you love me with the same exuberance as I love you. You’re young, and attractive, and funny, and smart, and charming, and you still have so many options to choose from, but I can’t be just an option. I need to be the only one. And as petty as you think it is or society thinks it is, I need labels. I get that labels aren’t cool, but listen, I never claimed to be cool. As uncool as I may be, I love equally as deeply, I need someone who isn’t afraid to love me the same way. And I get that you’re just not ready for it, but I can’t change who I am. And you can’t change who you are, and where you are in life. And I’m sorry for thinking that I could force that on you. Your feelings do matter. But I can’t be what you need in this season of your life, and I’m sorry.

Mostly I’m sorry that we’ll never get to live the life I’ve imagined for us. I’m sorry we won’t fly our families to Catalina one day to watch us celebrate our love for one another. And I’m sorry that we’ll never get that farm in Austin that we talked about, and that we’ll never have to struggle to figure out how you, and me, and Clark will all fit in one bed comfortably (because believe me, it was going to be a challenge), and that we won’t sit on our porch swing when we’re old and wrinkling drinking lemonade together. I’m sorry that we’ll never get to see the actualization of one another’s dreams. I just hope that one day we’ll reach the point of where I can still watch from a distance. Because when you figure it out, and to capture your potential in everything, you’ll have a beautiful life, and it will be worth beholding.

It’s just that sometimes people aren’t meant to be together. No matter how hard you try to force it. And boy, did we try to force it. I still don’t get it, I guess, why things like this happen. I can’t fathom for the life of me why a God who loves me more than anything would allow me to fall so desperately in love with someone I’m not supposed to spend my days growing old with. I’m sure many of you will have your explanations, but they will fall on deaf ears. I’ll never get it. Sure, I’ll hear you when you say “it will help you grow” and, “God’s just molding you so that when your prince charming comes along you’ll be ready” and I’ll nod and agree, but in my heart I won’t understand. Couldn’t I have been molded by some other force other than earth-shattering heartbreak?

My friends will all think this boy is the only person to blame for the situation. And I will love them for it, but they will be wrong. It’s also my fault. Behavior is cultivated. And what you allow is what will continue. And I allowed a lot. I allowed it because I was desperately in love (as I still am) and I thought being easy-going, letting him do what he wanted and make all the calls in the relationship would make him love me more (I don’t think it did). And because I have this idea in my head of who I don’t want to be. I never wanted to be that girl, the one who people refer to as “ball and chain.” The girl who is so needy that she become a joke to people. I wanted to be the lovable one, and I thought allowing an excess of things to go on would make me that girl, and that he would love me for it. I don’t think it did, I think it taught him to take me for granted. Maybe if I had asserted my needs a little earlier we wouldn’t be where we are now. Maybe we would be happy. Or maybe we would have found out long before now that we really weren’t meant for each other and we could have just been actual friends. And maybe I wouldn’t be miserable right now.

Many people will write-off our relationship because it was never an “official” relationship. They’ll say things like “well, you guys were never actually together so…” and those are the people who will hurt me the most. Because it doesn’t have to be official for it to hurt. He didn’t have change his Facebook status for it be real. Because my love was real. My tears are still very real. It was all real to me, because I had already committed to it. And by you taking that away from me, and invalidating it, it amplifies my pain. Because that means I just making a big deal out of nothing and I should just grow up. And thoughts like that won’t help me heal.

You know, and maybe it wasn’t as real for him, but even that kind of knowledge doesn’t make it any easier for me. In fact, I think it makes it harder. The realization that he might have never loved me hurts worse that thinking that he just fell out of love with me. To think that it was just a game for him to get what he wanted and then leave is even worse. And I try to not let my mind wander that way, but it happens. Because I’m cynical. I’ve spent the last 10 years thinking that I’m unlovable, because while all my friends are getting married and finding love and happiness, I’m not. Up until very recently I’ve never even been close. There’s never been anyone in my life who I’ve thought “yeah, I can spend forever with this person.” Until now. But what’s worse than not having anyone is fooling yourself into thinking you have someone, or having them in flashes and then nothing at all. I can tell you from experience, that is worse. People always say “it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all,” and those people are wrong.

I’ll spend the next several months trying to piece myself back together. And it will be hard. “Months” is a very optimistic way to look at it, it will likely be longer. Because I’ve spent the last two years forming this other version of myself. This pseudo-Misty who’s life was entangled with someone else. Because that is what you do when you’re in love. So now I have to disentangle myself and fill in the holes where he used to be.

Friends, please love me anyway. I’m just trying to find my joy again. Bare with me as I bail on your plans, and when I fake laugh at your jokes, and as I post a plethora of Taylor Swift lyrics to my social media accounts (can’t help it, girl just speaks to me), because eventually I’ll be the me you remember, or I’ll be a better version of her.