To the One Who Broke Me

To the one who broke me,

I was sweet and innocent before you. You said you were my best friend, and we did everything together. I basically lived at your house and saw you as a sister. Then I started dating him. All of a sudden, I didn't worship you: at least that's how you saw it. You had it in your head that I loved you. I did, just not the way you wanted me to. I developed an anxiety issue. Remember when went jean shopping with me because I had lost weight? That was because you had me wrapped around your finger so tightly that I dreaded possibly making you unhappy. I lost thirty pounds in three weeks because I threw up any time I ate. You always used suicide as a threat. When I called you to talk to you out of it, you hung up the phone. That's when I developed phone anxiety - because you had so much control over me that I couldn't ever control my emotions or brain. I was weak because I cared too much. That's always been my greatest flaw.

I hope you're happy. You weren't fully in control of things that made you who you were. Maybe I'm too forgiving because you are responsible for your own actions, but your father was terrible to you. I hope you figured out all of your confusion. And, for your sake and that of others, I really hope you learned to be a better friend. I may be bitter and cynical now, but even after what you did to me, I still care.