You were the first boyfriend that I was both physically and emotionally attracted to.
This is probably my least favorite part of breaking up because my dumb fucking brain only wants to remind me of all the cute things you did that made me like you..
How you got that app with the little kitten that would roam around on your phone. How your hair would flip when it was long.. how we would hold hands during psychology. How your face would brighten up when you would see me waiting for you at lunch or before 4th period. Holding hands when you drove – that long car ride we took to Taft.. When you came over that one time and we watched that really annoying and shitty movie Nate recommended, we got taco bell, and cuddled on the sofa…. When I came over to your house and took that picture of you with a Snapchat filter of a cat.. When we went to starbucks together and you hated me for getting you to like the passion tea lemonade. Taking me to the melodrama, getting that pretentious macaroni and cheese in SLO with your mom..
But then, there were the times when I just couldn’t help wondering why we were ever together.. When we would argue about anything political. When you told me you were thinking about going into the military. When you just the other day told me that you couldn’t date someone who was fat – or when you out right said that you would specifically look for things that solidified your existing beliefs. The racist songs you played in the car that one time…
I only broke up with you because you obviously didn’t want to be with me anymore, and I’m not sure why you hesitated to do it yourself.
I love you, but now I resent that more than I ever appreciated it. It’s burdening me, I don’t want to love you.