I realized I never got around to writing any of you a letter. Firstly, do you even remember me? I wouldn’t want to send a letter to someone that hasn’t the slightest idea of who I am. But you should. I was once a very important person in your life, as you were once number one in my life. (Perhaps a big mistake on my part. Never make someone your priority if you’re number 12 on their list of Things to Do.) Nonetheless, we used to see one another every day. We laughed. We held hands.
We had romantic walks along the beach as we discussed the meaning of life. Inevitably, you told me you loved me and wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. (Each and every one of you.) Nonetheless, you broke my heart. (Each and every one of you.)
I proudly decided you were once worthy enough to have my heart, which I purposely enclosed in bubble wrap, placed into a box, which was then wrapped four times with a chain and locked shut. As I handed you each the key, I said “Don’t ever take this out of the box or else…” It was very much like Pandora’s Box because you couldn’t resist not seeing what was inside. All of you opened the box and left it unprotected on the ground, releasing evil (heart break) that could not be undone. Inevitably, you all fell out of love with me. Nonetheless, when I met someone new, he would pick up the unprotected heart, pack it in bubble wrap, place it back in the box, bind it with a chain, and seal it shut with the lock. Nonetheless, like the previous person, he wanted to open up Pandora’s Box.
I couldn’t help but ask myself What happened, ex-boyfriends? It actually didn’t appear so… clean. It went a little more like this: I was sobbing, uncontrollably. My hair was a mess, snot was running down my nose, all the while yelling “W-w-w-w-what ha-hap-happened?!” (And you thought you had already seen me at my worst, when waking up. ha!) I was crying to anyone who would listen: my mom, my walls, my cats, my shower, the radio, a stranger on the street. I cried at work. I cried in restaurants. I cried while driving. No one who listened had an answer, and so I kept fucking crying. I thought you all might hear me if I cried long and loud enough. Again, there was no such luck.
But eventually, you weren’t the first thing I thought about each morning. Eventually, I was no longer the girl who cried in restaurants. Eventually, I got over it.
I occasionally peek on some of your facebook pages to see what is new in your life. (Actually, it’s to see if you two have finally broken up. No? Oh, well, I guess you two really are suited for one another then.) Some of you haven’t changed. Mentally, at least. Physically, I can see you’ve finally put some weight onto your lanky bodies and appear to look your age. Congratulations.
But I, too, am different since we parted ways. Mentally, I’m much smarter (No, really! I’ve my college degree now to prove it. I am still looking for a wall to hang it on, though.) I’ve realized that none of you ever deserved to be placed on that pedestal and I was wasting my time crying about you to strangers. Physically, I am much hotter than you last saw me, too. I know one of you used to tell me to go brunette, but I never listened to you. Guess what? I finally did it. I decided to get rid of those blonde locks and go a dark, brown. Chocolate brown #6 to be exact. It really make me eyes pop, just like you said it would. Thank you.
Speaking of thank yous. I’m truly writing this open letter to thank you for breaking up with me. No, really. I thank you for breaking my heart. I thank you for releasing the evil from Pandora’s Box. It has helped me learn how to be content on my own. It’s helped me figure out who I was meant to be. Otherwise, I would still be in those miserable and masochistic relationships. I would still be that girl who had big dreams, but would never get around to them because I was settling for each of you, instead. Thank you for helping me be that one step closer to being with that bigger and better someone.