You are the reason I don't think I'm beautiful. Okay, that was melodramatic. You are the reason I refuse to see beauty in myself.
Before you, I was confident. I was secure. I was that small firecracker with the big boom and glow at the end; small in stature, big in impact. I was outgoing, and sweet and never afraid to be myself. I knew that anything I ever did, I could put my full heart into it because I was a great person; nobody would intentionally hurt me.
And then you broke my heart. I knew someone would have to be the first, but I was expecting someone who wasn't you, my friend. I was expecting some thuggin it and lovin it type dude who I'd fall for stupidly to ruin my little engine that could, not you. You, with your clean cut exterior and gentlemanly ways. I suppose it had to be someone like you, as I don't think I'd have fallen for someone else.
I don't want you to think it's all about you, because it really isn't. You were a catalyst. I had to learn, woefully the hard way, that I couldn't trust everyone, but in learning that lesson I thought that I could no longer trust myself. If I could let myself fall in love with you, through all those red, albeit delayed, flags, I wasn't to be trusted because oh, that heartbreak my brotha...
That heartbreak had me behind a gazebo, in the snow, bawling my eyes out before class. That heartbreak had me second guessing every move I made from then on. That heartbreak had me believing, has me believing that something is wrong with me; that maybe if I were prettier, smarter, faster, better I wouldn't have fallen for it, and I wouldn't have gotten hurt. That heartbreak makes it so hard to just talk to dudes I'm interested in without worrying that they'll f*ck me over in the end.
So in a way, you ruined me. But at the same time, I still pity you. You can't find love either; you're so self-sabotaging that even I, with all the love I know I have to give, couldn't break your obvious self-loathing. All I wanted was for you to let yourself go, let yourself feel free enough to fall in love with me, and even though you could see it, you could feel it and hear it in my every word, you still couldn't believe that you deserved any of it. And a retrograde effect of that was me not believing that I was worth your love.
I know better now, I feel better now, but I'm not that confident girl anymore. No, I'm a bit jaded and so gun-shy. I have a fear of bothering the dudes I try to talk to; I fear that if I get on their nerves with all my curiosity, my wanting to know them, they'll pull a you and put a stop to it, or worse yet, run. I have had to learn myself all over again. I've had to start trusting myself from the very beginning. I forgave you almost instantly. It took me almost two years to forgive myself.
I don't hate you. I'm no longer mad at you. I'm no longer mad at myself. I just wish you could've been better about it; wish you could've broken my heart like a man instead of a boy. A man wouldn't have let it get so far and thus I wouldn't be so distrusting of others. A man would've looked me in the eyes, so I wouldn't be so sure that when men talk to me, compliment me, they must be lying. A man would've. You didn't. That's my only regret about loving you.
Is it hard? Terribly. Will it always be? I know it won't.
I know I am beautiful. I know I am smart. I know all men are not like you. I know that somebody is going to love me better than you ever could. So the hard part is over; now all I have to do is convince myself, will myself to believe it.