To that boy, you know who he is. That boy that made you feel like you weren’t good enough, that you weren’t pretty enough, that you didn’t deserve love, or affection. To that boy who put you under his pedestal…but remember who put him there. To that boy who lay his hand upon your cheek and told you he loved you as he brushed the hair off your face. To that boy who pulled you in deeper as the kisses grew stronger, who makes you smile just by being. To that boy you can’t stop thinking about, that boy that takes your brain and turns it upside down and inside out and squeezes it for all its juice…who pulls you in, then pushes you away…who takes care of you and lays next to you…as he breaks you. To that boy who talks to you for hours and says how he wishes he could be with you but can’t. To that boy who won’t make the effort. To that boy who passes you in the halls knowing everything you’ve been through and everything you’ve become and looks away. To that boy who won’t acknowledge you. To that boy you feel you need to prove your worth and to that boy you hope drowns in your success. To that boy who lives too far away, but just close enough. To that boy who forgets. To that boy who remembers, but doesn’t regret. To wishing he would. To hours of waiting for his call, to days of waiting for him to make up his mind. For working hard to seal the wound just to have it gash open and fill with salt. To yearning for forgetting and moving on and just getting close enough for him to come back, whisk you away, and then drop you off right where you started. To the one who got away. To wishing you were his. To the song of his voice during his late night calls, to the feel of his hair as you tangle your fingers through it. To the smell that comforts you as you lay in bed. To the smell that reminds you, and drives you insane as it triggers the memories you wish (but secretly don’t) would disappear. To wanting, wishing, waiting- yearning. To letting yourself continue to open yourself to pain and suffering, all for the slight chance that the inevitable will change- yet only to prolong. To the feel of his fingers trace across your back in the language of your embrace…to hating yourself for reliving that. For the memories, the little moments, the goofy laughs, and stupid jokes….the times that were so good that you don’t remember. To the deep conversations and opening up…to the delusions and embarrassment they dispelled. To misread signals, or ones that couldn’t be taken back …to pretending you don’t believe…to believing when you shouldn't. To real eyes that you realize were full of real lies…

Here's a big F*** YOU.