One year later.

A year ago today I was a broken mess. I had cried for days leading up to it. Spending my days curled up in a ball watching the saddest movies I could think of. I knew the inevitable.

A year ago today I felt like the world had ended. Despite the grim future that was ahead, I still naively believed that love conquered all and that we'd make it work. But we didn't even last that long.

Now here I am. Exactly one year later. He no longer haunts me in my dreams. He still crosses my mind, but only on rare occasions. I no longer need to pull out my journal from those 6 months so I can relive it. We haven't spoken since January.

He is no longer a part of my life. And I don't care. The only reason why I even write this is because I can't believe how over it I am. Am I still angry? No doubt. Does it frustrate me that I don't know what he meant and what he just said to try to have sex with me? Hell yes. But all I feel is anger. I don't feel love or desire and I definitely don't miss him.

Today I can say something I know I didn't feel a year ago. I'm thankful. Despite how it may have gone up in flames, I am glad I got to experience the high school boyfriend I so desperately wanted. I'm thankful to him for making me open up and try new things. I'm glad that I learned that men are first and foremost complete assholes. They have to earn your trust, you just don't hand it to them. If they say I love you, they don't necessarily love you. Guys will forget you way faster than you will forget them. And the cliche only fall for a guy if he's willing to catch you? It's a cliche for a reason.