It's been almost six months today since you crushed me into the small-hearted, pathetic, distrustful human that you see today. Six months later, and am I over you? Yes, I am over you, but only in the context that I am over you as a person. However, I am not over your actions, your deception, and the way you cheaply cast me aside after using my kindness and compassion as a distraction from the misery and heartache in your life.

The fact remains that had the two of us continued together I would still feel the same thrill and euphoria that I experienced every time I heard your voice, and looked into your sad, sweet eyes as you expressed to me your thoughts and emotions. In a cruel and unkind world, you represented to me everything that is precious; everything that I long for. You were compassionate, moral, and incredibly intelligent. You were the good daughter that every father hopes for; the hard-working student that every professor appreciates. You placed your values above your social standing, no matter how lonely that road may have been. And you were so beautiful-a complete package of virtue encased in a lovely, delicate blonde-haired-and-blue-eyed frame.

You were perfect; too good to be true. Perhaps even too good for me, or anyone, it seemed. Despite this fact, I tried to do my best to be worthy of your company. I would have done anything for you. I would have gone anywhere for you. I honestly shared every ounce of your pain, and wanted nothing more than to ease it in any way that I could. I respected the hard times that were upon you, and never forced you into any uncomfortable situation. I respected you more than anyone, and I thought you appreciated me for it. Never, ever, would I have treated you, nor any one in this world, the way you treated me.

Why did you lie to me? Why did you take my affection and benevolence for granted? That is something I will never understand. Perhaps I wasn't quite verbally straightforward enough, but I did more than enough to express my feelings toward you. And you did more than enough to respond to those actions.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to feel loved. If so, than I am among the perpetually lonely. I am among those who are stuck in a quagmire of loathing, of the self and of all humankind. I am among those whose every smile is faked, and whose every night ends in trying to find a dry spot on the pillow, for it has become soaked through with the tears of a chronic depressive.

I must retract what I said previously: I do not blame you for crushing me into the person I have become today. No, I am the same person that I was before we met, and the same person that I always will be. But, for the short time that I thought I knew you, you elevated my feelings and emotions to levels I never thought possible. However, since it all ended, I have plunged into depths from which I may never escape, B., and I fucking hate you for it. I hate you every time I pass you by; every time I see you purposely avoid my eye contact as if I was a person that would cause you an ounce of harm. It may seem small to you. It may seem small to anyone else put in my position. But to me, the boy whom no one had ever truly cared for, your illusory tenderness is more than I can take.

Yours truly,

J.T.