Dear... Ricky
I don't know what to think about you anymore.
I feel like I should hate you, honestly, I was young, probably too young and inexperienced when I first fell for you. And the way you lead me on only to use me for my body while you waited for the girl you loved to come back to you after breaking up for the third or fourth time, hurt me.
I was in love with you - you know that, you always did - and still, you continued the cycle of ignoring me for weeks before asking me for pictures or calls or favors. Before leaving me again once the girl you really wanted, the one you actually treated like a human being, came back. For two years, the only thing you thought was good about me was my body. I hate how much that changed me, and how I see myself. I hate myself for letting it happen, for being naive enough that if I just kept doing what you wanted that maybe you'd care about me. You never did. I don't think you do now, either. My boyfriend, my friends, and my mother have told me that I have every right to hate you. God, I wish I did.
I wish I hated you, Ricky. Hating you would make my life so much easier. But I don't. In spite of everything I have said and done to make you feel alone, the way you did to me, I don't hate you. Sometimes, I hate myself for not hating you, but the truth is that no matter how hard I try, I can't get myself to genuinely feel like that.
Deep down, despite everything telling me otherwise, I miss you. Not our relationship, that was hell. I miss what it felt like when I first got to know you. The inside jokes and the texts at two in the morning, the way we used to laugh our asses off back during the summer in 2018, the way I could trust you with anything, that I could just be myself and never have to worry that you'd judge me. Maybe I'm blinded by nostalgia, but I miss it. I've been lucky enough to make some incredible friends the past couple of years, but I don't think I've had quite the same connection the way I did with you (or maybe it was just the fifteen-year-old hormones, who knows?).
As much as I want to sit here and list off how terrible you can be, you're incredible, you're kind, you're creative, and you made me into who I am today. I don't know if you'll read this, but I miss you. I'm sorry for everything. Take care of yourself.