I had a dream about you last night. Well, you weren’t actually in it, which was weird. It was actually your mom. Anyway, I dreamt that you still loved me and that our break up hurt you just as badly as it hurt me. I was sad when I woke up because I thought I was past those feelings. I know that you and I will never speak again. If we ever see each other again, I know that we will pretend we don’t know each other. That’s the nature of how we were. You told me back in Hawaii that if you were ever mean to me when we got back that it would just be because you were trying to get over me. I guess that’s what last year was… you trying to get over me. I hope that is why you were so cruel. I hope that is why you treated me the way you did, why you appeared to transmorph into a monster overnight. I hope you still love me— even if it’s just the memory of me as an eighteen year old, cuddling you in bed and cautiously kissing your cheek. I hope that’s what you remember, and I hope you are as forever changed as I am by what we experienced with each other. I understand now that we had to break up. We needed this time apart to become people. I had to grow up. I’m not sure what you needed… but I HAD to have this time to figure out what I want and to heal. And I have. I’m *so* close to becoming someone I’m really proud of, and I am *so* close to having a handle on this crazy brain of mine. I couldn’t have been this person if I was still with you. I’m not sure I would have graduated, I wouldn’t be dancing professionally, and I wouldn’t have grown as much as I did these last few years without losing you and going through all the pain you put me through. It honestly made me a much better person. My only regret is that I lost you so entirely. It was my fault, and I understand that. I made you a promise that I didn’t keep. I will forever be sorry for that. I promised you that in Hawaii things would be different: we would be open about our relationship and I wouldn’t hide you anymore. You counted on that, and I let you down. You realized that I was nowhere close to being ready to be open about you, or me, or us, or anything, and you doubted I ever would be ready. I remember when you asked me to be honest, you asked if I would ever tell the truth about us. I remember I told you ‘no’. I told you that, at the point, I didn’t see a time that I would ever be able to tell the world that I was in love with you. I honestly couldn’t fathom it at the time. I told you that I would always love you, but I would probably continue to put on a show for the world because I couldn’t handle their reactions. I felt so trapped. I loved you more than anything. I had feelings for you that were stronger than my own will to live, and yet I was so scared to be open about that amazing love. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I suffocated you by keeping you a secret. I understand why you left, but I don’t understand why you broke us so completely that we can never talk again. I’m not sure I will ever understand that. I meant every single fucking word I ever said about loving you and wanting to be with you forever. I pray to fucking god you know that. How could you rip apart a love like ours and make it so that we can never have another chance?? Yes, we were too young. Yes, we had a lot of life we needed to live on our own. Yes, we had too much to figure out with ourselves. Yes, we were a trainwreck. But god, we loved each other with a passion that most people would die for, so how could you burn that to the ground? I will never forgive you for that. I forgive you for the other girls, I forgive you for the drugs, I forgive you for every mean word you ever said, but I will never forgive you for locking the door and losing the key to a once in a lifetime connection. We were magic, Laura. Fucking magic. I will never stop loving you. I will be eighty years old, and a part of my heart will still be yours. All I have ever wanted is for you to be happy. I don’t care what it is that brings happiness to you, I just fucking hope you find it. Real happiness, not that coked up bullshit that you are trying to pass as contentment. That isn’t living, baby. Please, please, please, whatever happens, remember us how we were that first summer. Remember the days we spent cuddling on the couch, the date nights, the first time we smoked weed together, how hard we cried when I left for college, the night we made those scrapbooks, and, above all else, the night at the elementary school. Be good to yourself.