Author’s note: Holy hell! He (“Vincent”) just wrote to me. It’s the first time in like 2 years. Two goddamn years. I told him I was writing him a story, hope he doesn’t mind that I changed his name for this. I feel like an idiot now that I know he’s going to read this. Still, I swore to keep it to the most absolute truth and that’s where this is staying.

Also, my ex is referred to as “my boyfriend” because I don’t even want to bother trying to come up with an alternate name for him.

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Maybe from what you’ve read already, you don’t think that I’ve done anything wrong. Well, I consider cheating and “looking around” a semi-crime. I was, or maybe was, in love already. Looking back, I have to wonder about how I really felt about my boyfriend. I broke up with him a couple of months ago. Long story there and it’s not worth sharing that part with the world. But still, when I broke up with him, I said the lowest, dirtiest, nastiest things I could think of to him. Now in my eyes I don’t see him as mature and wonderful as I really thought he was. I think I had a twisted infatuation that faded relatively quickly. I hate to admit it, but I got bored pretty quickly after the first year or so. I really did wrong by him. My boyfriend, I know, really did genuinely love me. I know it, but I don’t think I ever really cared. That’s why I really feel like a bad person about that. I was too much of a weak person to be able to just break up with him when I realized I wasn’t all that excited with him anymore. I wasn’t really unhappy. I was just neutral. I kept him in limbo basically. At this point though, he’s moved on to another girlfriend and I don’t think I can ever talk to him again. I know it’s wrong to abandon someone after four years, but I felt like he abandoned me most of the time, too. Even though he truly loved me, I hardly ever felt it from him. When I did, it was somewhat strong, but it wasn’t enough to really feel loved ever two months or longer. It just doesn’t keep a person loving you. So I felt neglected, uncared for, and even a little abused. There’s no easy way to describe why I really feel that way. I know I feel it, and I know why I feel it, but to put a feeling like that into actual words is an impossible task. So instead, I’m going to move on and share my misery about what you really need to hate me for. What I did that makes me so evil and cruel. Here’s the rest of the story and my actual downfall that’s far worse that anything I did to my boyfriend.

Vincent and I were still really good friends when I started college. We talked regularly on AIM and were still the best of friends. I know that my boyfriend was so incredibly jealous. I don’t think he had a right to be based on what knowledge he had, but my own knowledge that I kept so covert, tells the truth that he had every reason to be. Even Vincent probably didn’t know what I felt. Right around this time, my boyfriend was also spending time talking on Instant Messenger with him, too. Horrible, terrible idea. Oh, did that hurt so much to know why my boyfriend was doing that! The truth did come out though. I loved hearing it, but damn I was stupid to have reacted the way I did.

My boyfriend called or we were walking around town or something and he brought it up. “I was talking to Vincent last night and you know what he told me?”

All I could think, which was so mean of me to hope for, was that Vincent had maybe told him to go to hell. “No, what?”

“I asked him if he was attracted to you and he said yes.”

“Really?” God damn it all straight to hell. I sounded a little too happy and eager when I said that. It was something that made me feel better about myself, the world around me, everything! Unfortunately, I still thought I loved my boyfriend at this point, so I was a little torn about this.

“I don’t want you talking to him anymore. I think it’s bad for our relationship.”

“Umm…” To get him to shut the hell up, I beat my true feelings back. “Alright.”

So what did I do when I got home that night? I wrote a poem. I wrote a poem and Vincent liked it and he posted it on his MySpace page applauding it. My boyfriend though thought it was dedicated to him. In all truth, I never told anyone it was dedicated to anyone special. It was for anyone with the Aquarius zodiac. It was more oriented toward males, which is where I think the real confusion came from, but seriously, who has a right to claim my own art as their own? Posting it with praises is one thing, but saying no one else can have it is just stupid.

Well, this is really where things got their worst. My boyfriend threw this ultra-fit over the whole thing and somehow convinced me that Vincent was ruining me. I admit that I am completely fucking stupid. I mean, I’m so easily swayed by someone who holds such power over me. I always thought I was my own person, but that’s not true at all. I used to have the shittiest self-esteem ever. I wasn’t outgoing, exuberant, self-thinking. I was a damn fool and a total moron. At times, I still am, but this was my ultimate fucking dumb moment. I was such a tool that he was using and he essentially made me turn Vincent away. He searched through the internet intensely looking for anything to use as cannon fodder against him. Vincent drank, strike one. Vincent did pot occasionally, strike two. That was all he needed. As the stupid ass that I was, I was convinced that pot and drinking were evil and terrible and that they made a person terrible. So what I did, I will regret for the rest of my life. I wrote him a letter saying how horrible and what a liar he was. He never actually lied to me though. That’s the problem. If I’d asked, I’m sure he would have happily said, “Yes, I do these things.” So what I was thinking will always be a mystery.

That day I cried. I really cried. I have never cried so much or so harshly in my entire life. I seriously cried until I was sick. I was sobbing so loudly I was sure that my family across the hall could hear me. I spent months hating myself forever and ever. I spent so much time in absolute misery that I have no idea what happened in that period of time. I wasn’t sure if I even loved anyone at that point. For what my boyfriend had done, I hated him. I absolutely positively hated him. From that point on, I basically let him use me because I knew he had such ultimate domination over me. I was an idiot all over again. I hated him so much that seeing him and spending time with him made me sick. That’s why when I did eventually break up with him, I cried for a total of a minute or two and then realized I was free. Completely and totally free. Vincent had tried to email me and such, but he never heard from me from what I can remember. I wouldn’t know though. Like I said, I was a sad piece of work and life was hard and terrible.

It’s been two years and I regret what I’ve done. I began to slowly realize what I lost. I really blew it big time. I can’t even put into words just how sorry I really am. I have actually spent nights regretting it so much I feel like dying. I actually even considered cutting myself a few different times, but changed my mind knowing that wouldn’t change what happened. So I altered what I spent my miserable moments doing. Instead of thinking about death and pain, I threw myself so totally into my school work that I’ve held a 4.0 average without a social life. All of my supposed “friends” except for those who really mattered left because they were really my boyfriend’s friends. How many friends did I have after that? One. My best friend since second grade, and that’s it. My boyfriend and I breaking up has shown me the truth of who is worth trusting. I’m finally getting real friends for myself. Unfortunately, in one month, college will end for us and we’ll be going our separate ways, but at least I know that people liked me for who I was, not who I dated.

So what have I been doing since the break up? I’ve been discovering who I really am. I have come to learn some actual truths about myself that would never have come out otherwise. The first truth that I know is that I actually don’t think drinking is such a big deal. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I’ll never drink to get drunk, but a single social drink isn’t going to make me a whore or a loser. The second truth is that I’m not interested in pot. It’s not that I think it’s anything great. I don’t. But I know that it doesn’t make people monsters, and that I never really care to try it. The third truth is that I don’t really like metal music. I like pop. People can call me a dumbass if they want, but I really like the catchy little beats and the happy lyrics. Although, Metallica can still rock my CD player, too, and it would still make me happy. The fourth truth is that I love spending time alone. I don’t really care for parties and other social gatherings. It’s not that I don’t like people. I do, really. It’s just that I would prefer to have half or more of my time alone, and then the rest of my time with people who make my life bright and spectacular. The fifth and final truth, is that I finally know what love is.

Like I told you before, I love Vincent. For curiosity’s sake, I looked up his MySpace a couple of days ago. He’s handsome. In fact, not just handsome, he’s a real looker. I miss seeing that smiling face. He’s still got a great, goofy sense of humor. It was always a riot talking to him. He’s also come out that he’s gay, too.

Now you might think this would turn me away. But you know what? I still have that same love. Since my love for him is pure and unconditional, I still love him because that’s what unconditional means. It means no strings attached. Do I love him romantically? Well, it’s been a really long time, and I would have to get to know him all over again, but do I love him platonically, as a friend? Definitely. All I can think now is that men have all the luck. He’s the most perfect human being I’ve ever met. He stands up for himself, like he did against me. He doesn’t fight dirty, like I do when I’m angry. He’s always kind, which I know I fail at sometimes. And finally, from the email I just got from him, I know he’s forgiving, and I know I don’t deserve it. If he hated me, I know I would deserve it. If he wants to rub in what a jerk I am, I know I was asking for it the second I was an asshole to him long ago. If he walked up to met and smacked me over the head and asked “What were you thinking?” I know it was probably something I needed.

Now that I’m taking the time to discover who I really am as a person, I know that he’s the greatest thing I’ve ever lost. I have never hurt something so wonderful and I know that as long as I remain a self-actualized, cognitive, attentive, individual with my own ideas and beliefs, I never will again. I am so sorry that I don’t even know what to do with myself. I’m beside myself with regret, but also ecstasy over talking to him again. I know he’ll say he understands how sorry I am, but I don’t think anyone ever will. I am so regretful and I just hope that these words make him and you, dear reader, understand that I am a bad person who doesn’t deserve to love again, but I do. I really do and it’s unchangeable. So while I don’t even deserve his friendship or the chance to talk to him again, I’m greedy and I want it back. I want to be able to stay up late on AIM and laugh about anything and everything. I want to spend time playing video games with him while he completely kicks my ass at them. I want to know that when I finish transferring to my next college, I will always have someone to talk to. I want to be happy again. I want to have my best friend back.