Dear the cute guy who hurt me but doesn’t know he hurt me,

 

The reason I’m writing you a letter is because you weren’t in my life long enough for me to make you into a character. You left before I could get enough material to find a place for you in a short story or novel. 

 

I don’t know if that’s a compliment to you or an insult, but it’s not meant to be either. I’m simply telling the truth of how you made me feel so that I can stop wasting my time thinking about you. The more I think about you, the more you feel like a character even though you’re not. I’m giving you too much credit because I know you aren’t thinking about me at all.

 

You never cared for me the way I cared for you, but you let me think you did so that you would have someone to go to when you were lonely. 

 

And that hurts. 

 

To me, you were the moon. To you, I was a moon.

 

To me, you were a meal. To you, I was extra food you didn’t need but that you ate anyway because you were bored. 

 

To me, you were hardworking and rare. To you, I was hardworking and rare too. But to you, I would still be hardworking and rare ten years from now when you would be ready to settle down.

 

And that’s the reason why I cut you off. It’s not because you didn’t see me as the strong person I am. It’s not because we wouldn’t work out someday. It’s because you put me in a to-go bag and didn’t open me in enough time.

 

You still think I’m in that bag, but little do you know, I’m gone. Years from now when you open that bag to eat me, it’ll be too late. 

 

And FYI, I didn’t spoil. I never spoil. Someone got to me before you did. He’s the love interest in my new novel because he stayed in my life from the beginning to the middle to the end. If you want to be a character in anyone’s book, hate to break it to you but you can’t cut out the middle. 

 

Love,

The girl who you let get away