to all the boys I've loved

Fire

You lit me on fire and watched me burn brighter than the sun. You also watched me crash in flames and I'm not sure how to make sense of that.

I can't blame you for the wrong I've done and I can't be angry at you for leaving. I can keep our memories and know that I was and still am young and what I felt for you was painfully real. You'll always have a part of me and I think you know that. I don't love you in the same way but I still hurt when people ask me about you. They ask me why we are no longer together but there's no simple explanation. I can't help but remember all of the kisses and car drives. They tell me that I'm dumb for letting you go, as if I had a choice. As if that was a decision we made together; to just end everything and let it go up in flames. There's no point in explaining to people who don't understand. It's like the fire in me lit our home and I couldn't smell the smoke. I hadn't even noticed that you had moved the furniture around to prepare for the fight I didn't want to participate in.

You are beauty and big grins and such a sloppy eater. You are a mama's boy and a crier. I had full intentions of following you around the world if that is what you wanted. I saw the red flags left and right but I've never wanted something, someone, so strongly as I wanted you. I remember how much your mother hated me and the profanities she screamed at you when she found out that you were choosing me. But it's funny, because you didn't. You never did.

I always watched you lie to the people you love and I guess it never occurred to me that you would someday lie to me. Such a disgusting habit for a beautiful person. When we met 3 years ago outside a party because your friend didn't allow cigarettes indoors, I thought you were a saint for lending me your lighter and letting me vent about my ex boyfriend who had crashed the party. I got over that bad time in my life and I started writing and I quit smoking and I didn't see you again at any events for the rest of the Summer. We met again 4 months later on the same back porch where I had escaped my drunk friends and you were out lighting your cigarette. It didn't bother me in the slightest. I remember thinking that you were beautiful and your eyes were soft.

Remember the day you told me that you would do anything for me; "you'd kill anyone for me," because you loved me that damn much? But when I asked you for the 13th time to stop smoking cigarettes, when I asked you not to leave town that weekend, you told me that those were "dumb requests." Because invalidating my feelings was a constant and never-ending argument.

You were late for Valentine's Day because your boss asked you to work a double. I could smell the smoke in your hair when you showed up at my house and I could see the look on your face when you knew you had disappointed me. Because you see, I hadn't smoked in 6 months and that night I had to step outside to have a cigarette. I remember how much I hated those cigarettes but I get it now. I'm not sure if you were as sad as I am when I smoke them, but I hope you weren't.

I used to think my favorite color was red but your eyes made me fall in love with the color green. I listen to the song 'Promise' by Ben Howard and I still think of you and that night that I'm sure you've forgotten about. I'm listening to it now.  If you had asked me last year, I could describe to you in details where each freckle was and the curves of your body. But that's a memory I've lost and I'm grateful.

You leaving me by choice wrecked me. My actions wrecked me. You hurt me and he was there and that's something I will never be able to take back.

And it's bad and it's scary because I was getting better and things seemed happier and everything seemed so much lighter and I could finally breathe. God did it feel great to breathe. Then something changed and I lost you and things stopped getting better and I went back and I felt that way again. It's draining to get a glimpse of happiness just so I could lose it over and over again.

I stopped drinking during the day. I stopped thinking about you at night. I stopped wearing your shirts to bed.

I still think about you from time to time. I would be lying if I said that I don't care about you anymore but I don't feel like puking every time I see you and her in a picture. I guess that's considered improvement.