I knew I was never going to stop writing about you. But I knew I had to take a break or I was never going to fully recover from it. It’s been a while since I wrote about you. I don’t know what exactly I’m going to write, but I know it’ll be something good. After all, anything I ever write is worth reading, or at least that’s what I’ve been told several times.

It’s been 6 months give or take because I’m not exactly sure when you decided that you wanted to cut things off and never speak to me again. That’s how it went, you know. You just decided through a fight we were having some time in February (I say some time because I don’t know exactly the date) that you wanted to end things for good. Forever. I didn’t believe you for a day or so because this is how all of our fights went. You ended things, but you came back. You always did. This time was different, I suppose. I knew it would be the last time we ever said another word to each other because you were wrapping up your senior year, and I moved that summer. I don’t know if I’m more upset that I can’t remember the last words we had exchanged that night or why you didn’t properly end things the way I had always imagined it to be.

I was bitter for a while. I didn’t talk to anyone for weeks. Even months. I entered this depression for god knows how long, and I thought to myself, “ How will I ever recover from this when the only person who has helped me has disappeared forever?” Because that was the thing. You were the cause of this, the reason I lost myself entirely. I’ve changed drastically. I don’t even know if you would recognize who I was mentally if we ever spoke again. I’ve matured. I realized so many things that are just making sense right about now.

It was never a proper goodbye. Then again, I think I’d be more upset if you had ended it the way I planned for it to go. Actually, I don’t even know if I ever thought there would be a day that we really did end it. Not those fights we had that resulted into breaks. Not those arguments when we didn’t agree on something. But a real goodbye. A goodbye that lasts forever, one that inevitably destroys you until you decide to stop holding onto that little bit of hope that things will go back to how they were. I held on for quite some time. I think you know that, though because I never stopped calling. I never stopped posting endless tweets about you in hopes that you’d feel the least bit sympathy to come crawling back. I thought you’d come back if you saw how much I was hurting. But you didn’t, and it’s been months now. And now I finally know. It was the closure I received not through you. I realized that if I couldn't get the closure I've been so desperately yearning for, I would creative it myself. And so I did.

We never did agree on anything. And to this day I wonder how we even lasted for a year and 8 months on and off. Then I remember that we were each other’s first love, and if that doesn’t scare you then I don’t know what will. I didn’t want to give up. I don’t think I ever really will. I mean sure, I’ve given up on the idea that you’ll come back, and it’ll be as if nothing changed. That’s how most of our fights ended. We would act as if the fight didn’t exist, and we both agreed to never speak of it again. Until another fight sparked up and on and on.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be the girlfriend you always wanted. I tried, though. I really did love you. I will always love you. I’m just not in love with you anymore, and that is why I decided to write about you again. I realized that most of my writing pieces are based on things I’m trying to overcome not just face. I faced that this was the end, and now I’m finally overcoming it. I’m recovering so to speak. I’m not bitter anymore.