so i packed your sweatshirt away this weekend. and i threw that ratty-old t-shirt out. and i thought about times that i probably should have forgotten about long ago. it’s not really that i hate you. it’s not really that i’m even hurt over what you said. it’s that people shouldn’t say things like that to people they claim to love. people shouldn’t treat the ones they love so poorly. you see, there’s this funny, awkward, beautiful boy around here. and he looks at me like i’m something fascinating. like i’m precious. and it’s made me start to believe in myself again, as if all that damage you had done was obsolete. so it’s not that i don’t miss you. it’s that i love myself more than i had ever loved you. and i don’t think that’s selfish, for once i think it’s the right thing to do.

 

just know i love you.

and that you are something special.

and that where ever you go, i will always wish the very best for you.

be happy,

The Cartographer of [Your] Hair

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