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The One Who Broke Me


Nate2048

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Letter To The One That Broke Me

 

Dear You,

 

Remember me from a year ago? Probably not. I remember you, the girl with the beautiful brown eyes, but more importantly...we were friends at one point. I remember sitting behind you in class. You were so cute in the way that you focused on your work. Then, we were paired together for a semester. I remember you being so shy around me. Then, you started “accidentally” bumping into me in class. Before I knew it, we were talking regularly before class. In class, I noticed your arm touching mine and I thought I was crowding your space. Then you gave me your number for our project. Later, you started texting me questions, but I knew that you knew the answers. However, the party soon soured when the guy in class told me that you two talked about children and danced. I was destroyed. I was silent that day because I could not look at you without forcing back tears. A week later, a friend of ours walked into class after you walked in and he walked back out saying that you were all lovey dovey on the phone with someone. I felt sick. I wanted to ask you out, but I hesitated again.

 

Then, we had a great conversation. You told me about how you traveled to Geneva, Switzerland and that you loved it. You loved a the country that I loved and I felt like I was meeting my dream girl.However, I also asked you about yourself as a twelve year old and what you wanted to be. You only said that you were a tomboy. My dream girl was embarrassed about being a tomboy when I thought that she was beautiful just because she owned who she was.

 

I remember the day when you got a cold. It was at that moment that I wanted to be yours. I had visions of me sitting next to you, bringing you water, kissing you on the forehead, and letting you rest. I fell in love because of a cold.

 

I remember our first hug. It was my favorite day. You hugged me so tight and I wanted to hold you forever, but that would be moving too fast. Later that week, we talked online and you cried under stress. I knew what I had to do.

 

I walked in that morning to correct your paper, but I had something to tell you. I did not know if you were taken or not, so I told you how I felt. I looked you right in the eyes, told you that I had feelings for you, and walked to class. That afternoon, I waited after class to ask you out to dinner or maybe my friend's wedding, but your friend talked to me.

 

We talked and you became upset with me. You crossed your arms, gave me a look, and turned your back to me. So, I gave you a letter that told you my deepest feelings and that I dreamed of us bring together. I told you that I had never loved before, but you made me realize what it looks like. You perfect and my dream girl. When I read your email the following Monday morning, I cried. You did not see me the same way. You told me to let go of my dreams and desires. Basically, you were telling me to let you go. I read that email ten times that morning. My mother and friends even said that I was not seen romantically. The part that hurt was that it seemed that I never brought you joy. I thanked you for saying I was at least a friend because I was not going to say "Date me or nothing" because that would be unfair. Your feelings are yours and I must respect that. I apologized and said I understood and respected your rejection.

 

When I saw you that night, I stayed away. You made it clear that you did not love me and that someone would love me in His time. I felt like a creep. When you brushed along side me, I walked out. You told me to let go of my dreams and desires, yet you were standing right next to me. I cried in the bathroom and called a buddy. I felt like I was being toyed with. Upon my return, you said that you told your grandma that you did not want a relationship for another three years. I felt used. The last words you uttered to me were “What time is it?” and you walked out. The last time I saw you, you gave me a handshake in a parking garage after hugging everyone else. I felt like a plague.

 

When I took up your offer of friendship, you said you never become friends with men and I promised to abide by your boundaries as a friend. So, I not only lost a potential love, but my friend and favorite person as well before my graduation where I fantasized about giving you a hug and looking deep into your eyes. I said everything to at least save a friendship, but I understand you cannot be friends with someone who is romantically inclined towards you. Later, our friends told me you only wanted someone selected by your family. I understand. I told you I failed as a friend because I felt something more towards you.

 

I decided to throw myself into something else, not love, but a passion. I hope you find the love that you want. I will not chase you. I will not badmouth. I will not hate. I will let you go. I forgive. Go after your heart’s desires. You deserve them. I just wish I knew why. Nothing more. The biggest tragedy to me would be if we both loved each other, but something was keeping us back.

 

This is on my mind a year later because I still do not know what happened. When you called me at night in a panic over homework, I did not judge. When you asked for my help, I was there. I thought we were in love with each other, but it might have just been on my end. I just pray that I can move on. I hope somebody can feel as passionately about me as I feel about you. I show the words of those emails and everyone tells me that you never liked me, but my mind refuses to accept that and I have to live with that. Until then, I literally need to keep my head in the clouds. It felt like cutting a string to my heart by unfollowing you on each account, but I needed to not be reminded of what my heart wanted.

 

I cannot go past that parking garage without thinking about your hand in front of me. I even cut up my alumni card. I can't go back. I cannot look at social media and see our school without thinking about being there with you. You should be there because our classmates loved you for you, not me. That school is yours. I have even stayed away from Old Town to avoid those memories.

 

The words that pain me the most were "My hope is that this will discourage you from sharing yourself with others." Well, I do not know why I should feel encouraged to share myself when a person who said she was "old school" rejected me by email, said I was only a friend and not that at all. However, that is how things were handled and I respect that.

 

As I said, I will not fault or blame anyone for not returning my feelings, but I just hope that they were noticed. I am not trying to spin words or twist logic, but I am trying to tell which thoughts went through my mind and show my perspective. I do have well wishes for you after what has felt like my soul being ripped in two. I hope that your future is bright. I hope you never have to experience what I felt with the pain of loving someone and learning that they do not feel the same by email and having that person leave you with no words and a handshake. You deserve the best and I mean that. While I wish this was all a big nightmare and a simple miscommunication, it seems that it is not.

 

As pathetic as this may sound, I cannot think ill of you. I loved you for you and I cannot change that. I can only hope that those feelings fade or something greater comes. This is why I felt like what existed was true love because instead of thinking horribly, I wish you well because you deserve to be happy with or without me. I gave you a DVD because I wanted you to be able to enjoy a great movie. I gave you a fancy pen because I wanted you to be able to see your smile in its reflection. I made you origami because my penmanship is terrible and I wanted you to know I used my hands to put effort into something for you. And you know what, I do not expect anything in return. Love is given freely. While I wish you ended things with me in-person, I am not entitled to that. Acts of love are meant to be given without strings attached.

 

I remember a post saying this:

 

"When a woman cries over a man,

She truly loves him.

When a man cries over a woman,

He will never love anyone like her again."

 

 

With “love”, admiration, and prayers,

 

The Guy from the Past

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While our journey in school was ending, I hoped our life journey together would soon begin. I read an article about love letters on the Art of Manliness and I hope that even if you did not like me in that way, my letter at least seemed like I put in effort. I told all my friends and family about you and they all wanted to meet you. My friends wanted me to invite you to their wedding. Everytime I was with you, I mentioned that wedding hoping you would say you were free or if I was taking someone so I could ask you. A mutual friend said you were into someone else, so I tried not to intervene.

 

I think about you everyday. I do not know why you were mad at me, but if I misinterpreted something, then I wish you had told me. I told you that I felt love from you, but I would not put words in your mouth. When you sent me your email, I had to respect your feelings.

 

Just to be clear, I did not jump to a conclusion because I had a few people read my letter to you and your letter to me. They all said I was coming on too strong and that you did not feel the same way. None of this is your fault. If you did mislead me, then you are forgiven. If you did anything to hurt me, toy with me, or whatever, you are forgiven. You told me "We do not hate." So, any anger I have would be pointless.

 

That said, I felt like I was not enough for you. If you thought I was average and wanted more, I do not feel angry about that. If I ever wronged you, I hope I can be forgiven. More importantly, I wish I knew what I did so I would never make that mistake again, Superwoman. Your email said I would be a great partner for someone else and it would happen in His time, so I kept my distance from you.

 

One small theory a friend mentioned was maybe I thought you were rejecting me and you thought I was rejecting you at the same time when we both loved each other. Crazy, but a theory.

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