The first words to be said are that this is the last thing that I'll write for you. My pen will never touch paper again while any thoughts of you cloud my word-flooded mind. I'd say that I hope that this relieves you - I would have said so, before -- but now I can say that I honestly don't care whether it does or not. So much has changed, now.

You...you were my prince, for a little while. Did you know that? I'm not sure you did -- I don't think you ever realized how much you meant to me. But you meant a lot -- a whole lot. Because I loved that doe eyed boy with that dimpled grin, the one whose goofy laugh never failed to make me smile, the one who joked like an idiot and aggravated the hell out of me. The one who never shut up, the one who didn't care what people thought.

But that's what's different. That's not you anymore, is it?

My God, you changed. You wear that arrogance of yours like a damn shield. I can't even tell if that boy I loved is still there, hidden behind the narcissism and the stupidity and the perverted-ness and the smirk. It's not you I see in your eyes, anymore -- that is, the few times you meet mine. It's not your carefree, boyish smile that crosses your mouth, and it's not your goofy words that leave your lips. You're not that person anymore. That's just...not you.

And people change -- I know that.

People grow up and people figure out who they are and people leave people behind. Somehow, some way, I used to think that we'd leave everyone else behind, that'd we'd be those two who would fall in love and beat the odds and make it all work -- but now that seems like a lifetime and a couple dreams ago. Maybe you're thinking that I mean that you left me behind, that you left my little heart in shards behind you. But that's not what I mean.

I see, now -- I left you behind, far behind.

I grew up and I'm figuring out who I am and I figured out what was good for me. And that...that's not you. It never was. Me and you were never, ever going to work, no matter how many stars I wished on or how many of my pennies drowned in fountains or how many dandelions lost themselves to the wind. We were -- we still are -- too different. Too different to ever have stood a fighting chance.

Maybe I was too smart for you, or maybe I was too sarcastic. Maybe I just didn't have the athlete's body you loved so much. Maybe my temper was too quick, my words too sharp, too over your head. Maybe my friends weren't 'cool' enough for you -- maybe I skipped around all of the crap and was just too much of myself. I don't know. Whatever it was, it wasn't enough for you.

And, you know, people said it was just a crush. I guess it may have been -- I guess I know it was. But that doesn't change the fact that I loved your smile. It doesn't change how much it hurt every time you inadvertently humiliated me -- damaged the pride you didn't know could break. It doesn't change how real it felt. If it was a crush, it did a damn good job of crushing me.

But it made me stronger. I'm stronger, now.

You weren't my first love, but you were the first boy who put a little fissure in my heart. But that's healed, and it barely left a scar, and now, my breath doesn't catch whenever I see you. I've never been so completely through with someone in my life. I see you look at me -- I'm different now, aren't I? I grew up a little, didn't I? Maybe, just maybe, you missed out, didn't you? Because I see you see me look at him -- oh, I see that shadow in your eyes. You don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to have me -- is that right?

You're just a little late -- he's funny and he's smart and he's silly and he's sweet and he pays attention to me and he is NOTHING like you. After three years of rejection, I can let you go for someone so much better.

There's a quote I heard once -- "If you could see how much you hurt her, you'd never be able to look her in the eyes again." That's true. I wish -- I wish, so much, and this time, it's not on a star -- that you could FEEL what you did to me. Because you wouldn't be able to look into my eyes ever again.

I suppose I've said what I came to say -- I don't care, anymore. I don't care if you care. I don't care if you laugh. I don't think you have the face of an angel, and I think you need a serious, serious ego adjustment. I just wanted to let you know that I've let go of you, completely. Have a good life, boy.

-The Girl You Hurt One Too Many Times

P.S. You should smile a little more -- not smirk, smile. Someone will easily fall in love with it.

Okay, if this comes out looking weird, it's because fiction press is seriously screwing with me. I'll try and fix it if it looks funny. So, if any of you follow my writings, or me, or whatever, I think most of you will be glad to read this. It's…I guess it's a sequel to Ink Smears, in a way. It's to the same boy, and it's another letter that will never be sent. And I'm damn glad I got it out there – it's been in the workings for months! I'd love some feedback.

- Paris

Bye, Jeffrey.