1. The first thing I would like to say would be to my first boyfriend. I would tell him that before you, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t afraid of liking someone and telling them because before you, I thought it was possible. You used me, you dried me up, and tossed me to the side like it didn’t even matter. Like you didn’t care about me in the first place. You got my hopes up, you made me care about you and then you just acted like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t supposed to kill me? I can’t talk the boys I like now! I can’t look them in the eye because I’m afraid they’ll see what you saw. A scared, empty little girl who could be used to make you get over your ex-girlfriend! You never cared about me and you admitted it. I don’t want some half apology two years later, what I want you is for you to take it back. I want you to have cared about me and meant it. I can’t look at any guy now who shows interest in me because you took that away from me. You made me believe that no one could like me for me, and that is not okay. You are a sick, human being; but lucky for you, I am not. So, I am going to try forgiving you.

2. The second thing I would tell someone is to the first girl I thought Was my friend. You were my first friend at that school. You were decent to me, at least to my face. You were my friend, again, to my face. And I trusted you-which I really shouldn’t have. Then you go and stab me in the back. Like I didn’t matter to you? Like I wasn’t your friend? You hurt me because I wasn’t cool enough or fun enough or whatever. I was good to you. I cared about you. I listened to your stupid boy drama and I loved you. Then when you abandoned me, I forgave you, assuming you had some explanation. When people told me you were spreading rumors about me, I made excuses for you! Excuses! I cannot believe I was ever so naive! Then you had your downward spiral into oblivion and guess what, I was there for you! After all the crap you put me through, I was there. I was your friend still and if you can’t see what a crappy person you are, well then, one day I think you will. You are insensitive, backstabbing, manipulative, a liar, and just a bad person, but even as I write this, I’m not angry. I wish you well and I hope you find someone who can love you despite all the wrongs you’ve made and one day I hope you’ll be able to right these wrongs.

3. The third message I have is for the boy I liked my sophomore year of high school. Despite what you’ve been told, you’re an idiot. I liked you and you probably knew, that’s why you didn’t say anything but I liked you and you could’ve done something, anything! You should’ve done something. I reached out to you, I tried to be your friend. Do you know how hard that was for me? To put myself out there and you acted like I was beneath you! Like I should feel honored every time you looked my way. You made me feel small. And I was partly at fault as well because I let you make me feel small. I let you make me feel like I was this insignificant dot on your radar and I had nothing to offer you. I was constantly shoving everything you liked down your throat to make you like me when I should’ve been just being me. I don’t like Red Hot Chili Peppers-I don’t see the point obsessing over bands. I am not as “devout” as you think you are. I love God but I’m not shoving scripture down people’s throats. I am not small. I am not insignificant. I am tall. And strong, and smart. I’m smart and intelligent. I’m freaking brilliant. I’m funny. Not your kind of funny, but actual honest to God not hurting anyone’s feelings funny. And I’m kind. I’m kind and I smile at people and when they try to talk to me in the hallways or in class, I put on a smile and I talk to them, And sometimes-it may take awhile-but I end up liking them. You made me small and now I will never let that happen again. So thank you, because you taught me a lesson. I shouldn’t have to act like someone else to get people to like me, because, it turns out, when I’m myself, I love me. Can you say that about you?

4. My fourth message is for my best friend. This is the hard one because I know you’re already scared, I know your life sucks and I know you think it can’t get better, but you can’t go around using people for a self-boost. When I text you, I don’t want to hear about your crappy problems with your crappy parents and your crappy house. I want to talk to you because I love you and you’re my friend. You’re hurting, I know; you’re scared, I know. But we can’t just talk about your problems. You can’t just take comfort from my strength. You can’t just use my heart as a doormat to come and go as you please. I’m not strong enough for the both of us. I wish I was, but I can’t fit you into that part of my heart because I’m already consumed with worry and regret. I can’t take in your problems because I have problems of my own. I can’t be your constant support system because I’m buckling at the knees. And this doesn’t mean we can’t talk about you and your problems, because we can, but I can’t hear them all the time. And the way you talk about them, I don’t know what I can do. I can’t feel anymore empathy because I feel everything already. People underestimate me, and they think they understand, but I feel everything. I know what people are feeling and I feel it too. I feel the depression of the woman on the street like a knife in my heart. I feel the desperation of the guy in my class and I bleed for him. I cannot take in your worries or your problems, I will listen, I will care, I will help, but I cannot solve them and I certainly can’t afford to make them my own. So you need to come up with some way to fix this and make yourself feel better or you’ll be stuck here forever.

5. This last one is to my mother. I still blame you. I still haven’t let go of the night you took from me. I still haven’t forgotten the tears my brothers shed. I haven’t erased the next day when you couldn’t be strong for us and you let me face that place alone. I still remember the way you let my counselor be more support than you were. Every time I have to ride the bus and come home to an empty house, I still blame you. You weren’t there, but it’s like you’re still not here. You can’t relate. You’re happy. I’m drowning and you’re the water.