It all started a year ago today.

You started talking to me; and for a while, we didn’t stop except to sleep. And we barely ever slept. For almost 10 months we talked. 8 of which we dated. 

Then things fell apart, as things tend to do, and it sucked, but I’m doing better now. Thanks for asking. You never do though.

Maybe one day, you’ll care again and be man enough to be my friend. I’m not really holding out for that though. I’m enough of a person on my own that I don’t need you. I still care, I always will, and I mean it when I say I’m here for you no matter what, but I’m done needing you. I’m done wanting you or feeling like I’m less of a person because you stopped caring about me. 

I find it fitting that the anniversary of our first conversation is the day that you finally returned those books I lent you. One of them is stained by water or coffee and the other is missing its dust jacket. I guess that could be a metaphor or something.

I’ve grown so much over the past 365 days. I wouldn’t take any of it back, even though you hurt me more than I’ve ever been hurt. Even though I still hurt. I’m stronger and I’m smarter and I’m more secure in myself. I’m proud of the woman I’m becoming and I don’t think I’d be who I am today if you hadn’t commented on my Facebook 12 months ago. So thank you. For that and everything that followed. I’m better for it, no matter how painful it was.