to the boy who hurt me.

Below is a flashback to one of my favorite pieces. We are about to start a week that is filled with love and showing your significant other how much they mean to you. But let us not forget the impact of self-love and confidence that can be diminished by the ‘love’ that destructs.

Before you can be loved, you must first learn to love yourself. 


After you, I was a beautiful disaster.

To the boy who hurt me,

It’s been a long time since I’ve been over you. Yet, I am still trying to get over the way you made me feel.

You’ve been out of my life for years. But I still carry your spiteful words with me as if you spoke them yesterday.

You were supposed to be my rock, my first young love. You were supposed to leave whimsical butterflies in my stomach just like the movies.

It might not have been meant to last forever, but it was supposed to be beautiful.

Instead, you stole my innocent spirit and optimistic trust in others.

Before you I was free, confident and other characteristics, sadly, I can hardly remember about myself. I lost all of me in you, and left myself there to never return.

Each day I had to rebuild. Rebuild and find who I was, what I should feel and how to form my own thoughts again.

You said my ideas were dumb.

I believed you.

Before you, I was a girl with a creative mind I confidently shared with others. I had a consistent laugh and infectious personality. My unstoppable heart could hardly contain excitement about my dreams and ideas I would one day achieve.

After you, I was too timid to share my thoughts in class and with friends. I thought my ideas were dumb, so I played along with it. Time after time, I acted as if I didn’t know the answer so I wouldn’t have to speak up or stand out.

My original spirit was left nonexistent.

You said I was unlovable.

I believed you.

Before you, I envisioned love the way my grandparents looked at each other. I heard stories of the way they learned how to love and never laid eyes on another soul.

I dreamed of a love story with happy tears, not hateful words.

After you, I was a beautiful disaster. The thought of being with someone forever was shredded from my mind. You made me unlovable and unable to love.

I dreamed of a life alone.

You hurt me, so I hurt people. A vicious circle of damage stemmed from you, and I couldn’t stop it.

Brilliant relationships I never trusted that I deserved were ruined in fear of your actions sneaking up again once I let my guard down. I refused to let them hurt me the way you did.

But I let you get to me.

They helped me while I turned into you, and hurt them.

You said it was my fault when you hurt me.

I believed you.

Before you, love was cheerful, kind and trusting. My mother told me to never be with a man who hurt me.

I thought she was silly. She knew I was smarter than that. I thought I was smarter than that.

After you, I found myself broken. A boy, who violently pushed, grabbed and hurt me, had somehow crept upon my bold and fearless self like my mother had warned me about.

Any forceful touch to my body or loud tone of voice brought back that unforgettable pit in my stomach.

I would never cry about it, though. I wanted to be stronger than you.

I wasn’t strong. I was numb with pain. I was lost.

To the boy who hurt me,

I still get scared to speak my mind, but I continue to become stronger and smarter.

I still fear being unlovable, but I continue to allow myself to love harder.

I still worry about an unguarded heart, but I continue to carefully peel back the layers.

I still am apprehensive of who touches me, but now cry into safe arms that hold me, not hurt me.

To the boy who hurt me,

I hope you’ve turned into a man who has learned through mistakes and effects from our lie of a love story.

I was a girl who let time and experience be her medicine.

Now, I am a confident woman in the last, softer waves of the ripple effect set off years ago.

A woman with plenty of stories to tell my future daughters who will learn from me, not from a boy who hurts them.

always,
della

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