I've been anticipating writing this for the last week or so as there is something that always weighs pretty heavily on me at this time every year. It is comparable to remembering the day you lose a loved one.
Three years ago today was the first time I was in the arms of the first boy I ever loved.
It was an unconventional romance, one we received much ridicule for because we met online and there was a considerable driving distance that kept us apart for the better part of the time we knew each other.
Eventually, he made the four hour drive to visit me while I was at school in Indiana. I honestly cannot not recall a happier day in my life.
Twenty days later, my 22nd birthday to be exact, I was admitted to the inpatient mental health clinic in town, on my own request, for my own safety.
I don’t often discuss my mental issues, but on that day, I was afraid of myself. I feared what I was capable of. Earlier that day I had been scouring the cabinets for pills and I had been on a drinking binge for weeks. I couldn't get out of bed to go to class and I barely ate anything.
I was in the worst shape of my life, as the result of a broken heart.
He never officially ended things with me, he just acted as if I never mattered or existed to him.
What’s interesting to me is that three years and four broken hearts later, this method of pretending I do not exist seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life.
They never really seem to give me any closure, and it is so difficult to move on when someone is still holding a piece of your heart on a string.
This happened most recently at the end of August when I told the person I had been seeing for two and a half months that I thought it would be a good idea for us to take a break. He had been struggling with a depressive episode for a few weeks already, but I assured him that I was not going to abandon him. He had been pushing me away and isolating himself, and would barely talk to me during the week. I knew it wasn't healthy for me to feel awful just because he was, so I broke it off, but told him I would be there for him and all he needed to do was call. Three weeks later, I hadn't heard a peep from him, so I took the only thing I had left of his to the tattoo shop that we both get our work done. I left his book with our artist and told him to make sure he got it.
I texted the ex to let him know what I had done and he managed to message me a few times, joking in his usual manner as if nothing had ever gone wrong between us.
I began to wonder if we could possibly work things out and asked him if there was any chance for us to get back together or if things were just over. He never answered me. His birthday was that same week, so I texted him again to wish him a Happy Birthday, again nothing, not even a Thank You.
Quite honestly, I know I fall in love fast. I know I get deeply attached very quickly, but in my best effort to not point fingers, he was the one who progressed things and talked so seriously about us being together and all of the things we would do.
One month later, here I sit, still crying, still worrying, but knowing that ultimately I am nothing to him and I no longer exist in his world.
When I reminisce like this, it always leaves me second guessing myself, attempting to figure out what the hell is wrong with me that I can’t manage to keep a boy around for a few months.
My friends tell me that it’s not me, it’s just the boys I date, and maybe they’re right, but why does this seem to be the usual method for dumping me?
Do they do this so they can spare my feelings?
Being ignored, being cast off like you never mattered hurts ten thousand times worse than hearing the truth.
Or do they leave the door open so they have the option of traipsing back through it later?
It’s sickening really, to feel so worthless and used as I have for the last three years.
I’m not saying I haven’t broken a heart or two or used people for the physical benefits. I've been a heart breaker as much as I have been heartbroken.
I hope I never have to make someone feel like that again, because I know how it can tear you apart and eat away at your spirit.
I've attempted to deal with my pain in a constructive manner, rather than using substances or self harm as a way to cope.

I have just completed the second draft of my first novella. It is based off of the relationship I had with the first boy I loved. Names and events have been changed or fabricated, but at the core, the emotions are real, the pain is real and this novella is a piece of my own history.
I truly hope that its length will not prevent me from publishing, as that is my ultimate goal.
I have other writings in the works, in much the same fashion, they are based off of my relationships.
This is the most constructive way I have been able to deal with these feelings, and on one level I am grateful for these experiences because without them I would not know how to live or love.
But as a result, I have decided that it is best for me at this time to figure things out for myself and to learn how to be alone.
I am no longer dating. I have too much on my plate with my own life and my own emotions and at this time it is best to sort myself out first instead of dragging someone into a hot mess.

Also, only 20 days until my birthday!