I’ll admit it, he had me fooled. I believed that I meant more to him. I didn’t.
For as long as I can remember, my friend group always consisted of boys. Boys I’d known since the 6th grade. So, when one of those boys asked to be my best friend, I didn’t think too much of it. Him and I always talked in school, but as best friends we talked more; our bond growing stronger than I knew was possible. Talked on the phone at all hours of the night, long after we should’ve been asleep considering it was most likely a school night. I remember us laughing and talking so much in our math class that our teacher had to separate us from each other. It just felt nice to have a friend to play the game with, stay up at ungodly hours of the night somehow talking about everything and nothing at the same time, a hand on your back always pushing you to be the best version of yourself. It was never awkward, nor did it feel forced, our friendship just felt right. His mistake was believing that what we had as friends could work as a relationship as well. I knew it couldn’t. Don’t get me wrong, the foundation for a healthy relationship should always be a friendship but with us it was different; I just knew a friendship was all it should’ve been. Obviously, I didn’t go with my better judgement and stay friends with him. On August 12th, 2020, I made the decision to get into a relationship with him, a decision I’m still dealing with the consequences of to this day. I was so happy, the happiest I had ever been. Our relationship consisted of many ups and downs, as one would expect. But not once did I ever think that the love I had for him was one sided. We laughed, argued (said things we would grow to regret as the night went on), cried, broke up, got back together, and I remember the question of should we have just stayed friends was even asked. Yes, we should have. On May 23rd, 2021, we broke up for good. I didn’t cry and I wasn’t sad, I believe I was shocked because I remember during that moment the first thing that came to my mind was, “wow we’re really done.” It wasn’t because I didn’t love him that I wasn’t sad, it was because during the days leading up to us breaking up, I could feel that it was over (if you’re a girl reading this, then you know what I mean). So, I guess I was prepared. It wasn’t till I found out how unfaithful he truly was during our relationship that I finally allowed myself to cry. The pain I felt is a pain that to this day, I’m still unable to describe. He destroyed me mentally and emotionally. Looking in the mirror to see what is I lacked that made him feel the need to confide in other women. I kept telling myself that it was nothing I could do to prevent him from doing what he did but for some reason, I just wanted to know why; although I understand now that the way he disrespected me was the only explanation I needed. No matter what his reasoning would have been, it still wouldn’t have been sufficient to justify what he put me through. It’s not him lying that hurts the most. It’s the fact that he looked me in the eyes after he did what he did, and it didn’t affect him. He knew that his actions were going to hurt me, and he simply didn’t care. He knew what he was doing behind my back. He knew that what was done in the dark would eventually come to light, that eventually, at some point I’d find out. And he knew that once I’d find out, I’d be completely destroyed. Yet, he didn’t care. I still think of him, but I don’t miss him. I’m over him but I’m not over the situation. He took a piece of me that no amount of words will ever fix. Because of him, I don’t allow myself to ever fully give myself to anyone emotionally. And for those that I eventually will, I’ll always question the true nature of their intentions, never 100% trusting their words, always wondering in the back of my mind if I’m putting in more than I’m receiving. This is something I’ll always feel the impact of no matter how much time has passed, the biggest mistake I made was equating my happiness to a person.

He was my book, and I was simply a chapter in his.