Lagos, Nigeria

“I cried myself to sleep sniffing in your shirt once.
Okay, more than once and I used to hate laundry day because it smelt of you less and less.

Yesterday, I was doing the laundry and I threw it in without a second thought.
Baby steps?”

Pennsylvania

“I think humans like to believe that we are the best at loving another human.
“No one will love you better than I can.”
But truth is, she just might be a better lover than me. She might listen better, might fit onto your chest and under your arm better, might remember the lyrics to your songs better, might know the right words to say better than I ever did.
So I like to say that “I’m the best you’ll ever have,” in order to preserve my pride – to make myself feel better about how she’s “the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen” even though you told me that everyday. But I’m probably wrong.
Is she better? I might not ever know.
But if I really was the best, maybe we would’ve worked out. If I was, I probably wouldn’t be here writing you this ridiculous letter on the internet. Maybe our second go around wouldn’t have ended up with us too damn scared to let each other in again. Maybe things wouldn’t have ended with us blankly staring at each other until one of us caved into the “you’re better without me” speech.
So for both of our sakes, I hope she is better in every way for you. But I also secretly hope you won’t be able forget the way I made you feel when we were still so young and in love.”

Akron, OH

“I saw you, I probably was the only one who did.
I saw you trying to win your biological mom’s approval. The day you went up to her after a fight with your step-dad, and you apologized for it. Instead of a hug or a “it’s not your fault, you were told to pick sides that day.
I saw you when you pet the dog with both hands lightly around the neck just trying to show someone love that could be returned, and instead of believing you when you said you didn’t choke her, they called you a liar. You missed your big pre-school picnic that day. Instead, they sent you up to your room in the attic. I don’t remember seeing you eating, but I could be wrong. I do remember seeing you sneak down the attic stairs, crack the door, and longingly stare as they cuddled fondly with your little sister. You cried yourself to sleep that night, but it wasn’t the first time you had.
I saw you when you made imaginary friends out of the Winnie-The-Pooh picture frame on your dresser. You believed so hard that they were real that you swore you saw them move. They were your only real friends at that house, and you were in your room so often that you were glad you had them.
I saw you when you would wake up, and shuffle down the stairs only to be yelled at to return to bed until they were ready. You sat upstairs hungry, listening to music to get your mind off of breakfast.
I saw all the meals you skipped, not because you wanted to, but because you had no choice.
I watched you as you got older. And I saw the day that she forgot about your time with her. When you were supposed to meet at the baseball field at noon but stayed there until 2 because she had to be called and reminded of your time together.
I saw you when you sat with your sister behind the closed door of the back room, keeping an eye on the door so none of the partiers on the other side stumbled in and frightened her. I also saw you when you would hold your biological mom’s hair back as she threw up the next day. You didn’t share every story with your dad though, because you loved your sister too much to not go back.
I saw you cry out the window as your biological mom drove away with a new man. She moved to New York, and never said anything to you about their marriage or their new life. You saw pictures later and everyone was there but you.
I saw you the day your new step dad tickled you so bad it hurt, and you screamed for him to stop and he wouldn’t. When you were called a sissy for getting upset.
I saw you the day she sat you on the counter and complained to you about her marriage. When she trusted you and then told you that taking your advice would be stupid. I saw you the day she handed you a letter of apology, for everything she’d done wrong. And then turned around to her friend and called you the “oops” baby.
I still see you, ya know, you’ve tried all those years to earn her love. And now, though you finally understand it’s unearnable, you still want it. I hope I get to watch you get over her. And be set free once and for all, because that would be the good memory to remember, instead of all the bad.
I saw you, I see you. Let it go, set yourself free. You won’t earn her love. And she doesn’t deserve yours”

The Peach State

“Romance fills the air like smoke. Either we cough it up or we make it our new oxygen. Breathing either becomes a little easier, or we heave in the air with defiant lungs. And people either talk about their hearts skipping a beat or breaking. They talk about either the knots or the butterflies in their stomach. I see it everywhere — people talking about love and heartbreak, the boy who slept in another bed, the girl who watched the love of her life get married to someone else, someone falling into a pit of depression when the person they cherished most decided to walk away. Romance. It can kill you. But there’s another side of heartbreak that nobody talks about, and it’s just as capable of fatality.

Platonic love. Surely, that won’t walk away. Of course, you’ll be friends forever. You hit it off in college and she’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding and your kids will grow up together. Or maybe you met it middle school. You went through the very short stage of thinking of him more than a friend, but then you realize you “don’t want to ruin that friendship” and your heart swoons for another guy in high school who ends up breaking your heart. And your best friend is the shoulder to cry on, right? The one you bake cookies with at 2 in the morning while Seinfeld plays in the background, the person you come to get advice from after your mom gives you the advice you don’t want to hear. Or maybe it’s a group of friends. You all go to different colleges and lose touch even though you swore up and down that you would do everything in your power to make it work.
When I start to look at someone as my “best friend”, it scares me to death. Because “best friends” have broken my heart in the past. And the nights when my friends and I stay out late at Waffle House, laughing and learning the life story of the waitress who complains about the lack of music available on the jukebox, running through trails to get to that perfect spot by the lake where we can stargaze and then rolling down that steep hill while that one responsible friend stays at the top and yells at everyone to stop because “someone is bound the get hurt”, or maybe we skip the stargazing and go to someones house and watch a movie that we’ve all seen while the girlfriend falls asleep on the boyfriends chest (every friend group has a perfect couple, right?) and the two people who thought about dating but never actually did just flirtatiously throw popcorn at each other, when I spend nights like this with my friends, I find myself feeling the need to put up some sort of wall because it scares me. Losing them scares me. It doesn’t matter that we’ve known each other for six or or so years. It doesn’t matter that the gifts we all gave each other for Christmas were deeply meaningful and showed just how much we cared for each other. I’m so scared that they will walk away. I’m so scared that one day, we’ll all lose touch, or something will happen that will pull us all apart. And sometimes, driving home from the nights of adventure with my friends, I find myself crying in my car because I remember that one friend who treated me like shit and left me with the kind of spirit that doesn’t trust people easily. I remember that one friend who used to call me randomly, we’d talk on the phone for hours, everyone would say how inseparable we were, and then there was a silent letting go of each other, a “hey, I know you said this and that’s not okay so I’m gonna walk away now”, a disagreement, a picture posted of their new best friend when you haven’t talked in two weeks. Friendship can kill, too. But no one seems to talk about that. Is it because it hurts so much? Is it because for some reason, we feel like people can’t relate as much as they can to the boy who didn’t say “I love you” back, so we deem our stories of broken friendships unworthy to share? Friends effect our hearts. They make it easier to breathe sometimes. But they can also make breathing a bit harder. And I’m scared of losing my breath.”

Atlanta

“All day I listened to music that you like, subconsciously hoping that you would be watching my activity on Spotify and notice, then call me, saying you miss me and love me and living life without me sucks. But you haven’t logged on in 23 hours. And I don’t even like your music.”

Nashville, TN

“It’s weird going to college and everyone seems to have these heartbreaking stories of first love and last breakups. People are bonding over broken hearts and tears of regret and I feel so at a loss. I haven’t experienced that loss, I haven’t experienced that love. And the way they talk about it, the quiet that settles around us at 5 AM, it makes something inside my chest ache like nothing ever has. I don’t understand how it hurts so much when I’ve never experienced it. It makes me scared about what will happen when I do experience that.

And it makes me scared that I’ll never experience those emotions that makes everyone pause and nod in understanding and shared heartache.”

Chi-Town

“I feel like I live in the smallest city because I run into you weekly. It seems like every time our interactions are different. It’s like we are strangers trying to read each other. Or like we are both wondering how long we should talk or how small the small talk should be.
I don’t think I ever imagined us being where we are so quickly. It’s like we never went through those 2 years of life together. The unexpected ups that I will remember as what made this city so magical to me. And of course the confusing downs that we swore we would always work through.
We swore we would always work through the downs. Until one day, you decided not to anymore. I don’t get you even though I love you. I don’t think that you get you and that’s why you couldn’t figure out how to truly love me.”

Emotional Limbo

“I think you like me better when you’re high.
It’s something in your eyes when you look at me. & the way you laugh harder at my jokes & the closer you sit to me. Your hugs are longer. Your words hold more meaning. You are uninhibited. I like you like that. Half of me wants you to give me that kind of affection without smoking. The other half just thinks, “take what you can get, at least in this state he loves you”.”

Philly

“I’m done acting like the only heartbreak I’ve suffered is because of men. I’m heartbroken that everywhere I go, people are doing heroin. Out in public. On the street. In the middle of the city, the touristy part. I’m heartbroken that I’ve been looking for a job that will give me benefits since I graduated three years ago, and I can’t find anything that provides benefits and a decent living wage. I’ve been on interview after interview. I’ve applied to job after job. Cover letter after cover letter. I’m heartbroken that people don’t seem to care about facts anymore. When I argue “politics” with people, they shut down when I bring up facts. I’m heartbroken because I’m exhausted after my shifts. My job is physically intense and I’m in a management position. Being in a good position is still barely enough to pay your bills now. I’m heartbroken that I’ve barely tapped into my student loans. For all I know, they’re accumulating faster than I’m paying them and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m heartbroken that my friends are depressed and suicidal because they all have degrees and nothing to do with them. I’m heartbroken my friends have talked about doing cocaine like it’s nothing. Just a party drug. I’m heartbroken that my bosses won’t even try to communicate with their Spanish-speaking workers. I’m heartbroken that they won’t listen to their black workers tell them someone is racist. I’m heartbroken that the company I work for is considered progressive just because we have black workers and Mexican workers. I live my life each day trying to be satisfied. Be grateful. There are just some things you can’t ignore, though. People walk around acting like it’s normal for the middle class to just have their teeth falling out these days. I bet a lot of you can relate to a lot of these things if you’re living in the United States. It isn’t right that talking about this is considered political. This is my everyday. This has nothing to do with politics.”

Woodstock, Georgia

“Not one date. Two years of on and off seeing each other but not once did I get picked up, car door opened for me, a nice conversation over dinner, and dessert to top the night off. Instead it was late nights in your car and kisses on the lips that had stories to tell but you never even tried to get to know them. But you “loved” me, right? That’s what you said after the night you cussed me out and drove off. What a funny way to show that you love someone. I think that we all so badly want to be loved that we settle for the “goodnight, I love you” texts even if it isn’t love at all.
I know I did.”