“I love you.” “You are overreacting!” “I can’t live without you.” “You are useless.” “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

 

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. The floor of my room is now covered with petals. I can’t go on like this! They say, “writing is healing.” Who knows?  Maybe, just maybe, I can sort this all out.

 

Let’s go back to when it all started.

 

Dear Diary,

I liked him since we were 8.  I saw him in gym class once, running faster than anyone else in the entire third-grade, his long, wavy hair sweeping across his forehead. But I never mustered up the courage to talk to him.  I just admired him from afar.

 

But finally, we ended up in the same bio class freshman year. He sat on the opposite side of classroom 122, near the door. We kept making eye contact across the room when Mr. Callahan had his back to us.  I swore I saw him even grin for a moment. One day, a week later, I got a notification on my phone. He added me on Snap!  It was the best . . . day . . . ever! Over the next few months we got really close, from studying together to ending up on FaceTime till 2 a.m. I’ll never forget the day we started dating. I had been upset for doing so poorly on my bio test. He very sweetly calmed me down. Said he “loved” me. Said I was his favorite person in the whole world.  His best friend. GOD, I WAS SO STUPID!!!

 

Dear Diary,

I remember the day he cancelled our plans at the last minute. He said his sister was sick and had to go see her. But I found out from a friend that he had gone out with his bros. When I confronted him, he told me I was overreacting and it was no big deal. He just wanted to spend some time with his friends. He took me out to get ice cream (rocky road!) and made me forget about the lies he told me. He made me feel special. He was my forever and always.

 

Dear Diary,

I can’t forget our one-year anniversary.  I made a special dinner with his favorite fettuccine alfredo and cheesecake dishes. I spent all afternoon trying to make everything perfect. And as we were eating the dessert, all of a sudden, he got so mad and smashed his glass on the floor. It broke into a million pieces. I was totally shocked and shaken to the core. I had put salt in the cheesecake instead of sugar. How could I have been so stupid?? I begged him to forgive me but he left that night without even finishing his food. He literally didn’t talk to me for two agonizing weeks. I called him, texted him, “snapped” him night and day. He ghosted me every time. Then, one day, he came to my house and told me how much he missed me. He was sorry for treating me so badly. This time he was really sorry. Of course, I forgave him. He was my soulmate.

 

Dear Diary,

One time, I thought we didn’t have plans for the night so I went to see Barbie at the multiplex with my girls. And he called me the next day so angry and cursed at me for going out without him. He said he got so lonely and if we wanted to stay together then I would never do that again. He was right. He loved me and needed me. How could I think about myself?  I should be a better girlfriend.

 

Dear Diary,

All my friends say I should leave him, that he’s no good for me. But I mean, he’s not a bad person, he just gets mad sometimes. I mean it's not like he hits me or anything.  He would never do anything to actually hurt me.

 

Dear Diary,

And then there was Junior Prom. I was scared I was going to be late. I had to cover this scar on my nose. He said he wouldn’t take me if I look like a monster, it’ll ruin his image. I couldn’t do that to him. So I put extra concealer on and laid my make-up thick. I looked in the mirror. I added some glitter on the corner of my eyes and took a step back. Perfect, it felt like I was dreaming. It was going to be the best night ever. I walked down the stairs. Instead of seeing that charming grin, he looked so mad.

 

“Is something wrong?” I asked hesitantly. “Your eyes, I don’t like it. Take off that sparkly stuff,” he grunted at me. “Oh, ok, I’ll be right back,” I answered fearfully.  I needed to look my best for him. I didn’t want to let him down. I went back upstairs and washed off the glitter.  Then I went back downstairs. “Better,” he whispered into my ear.

 

Dear Diary,

I just came back from my prom with a heavy heart. He was supposed to be my partner.  He only danced with me once. He went off with his friends and he didn’t come back to me till the end.

 

And now I sit here surrounded with a room full of petals trying to figure out if “he loves me” or “he loves me not.” Why, why, why do I always forgive him?” If he had loved me, he never would have lied to me, gotten mad at me for messing up the cheesecake, or hated me for going out with my friends. If he really loved me, he would have been with me the whole night at the prom. This is not love. This is torture. I am done this time. This ends today!

 

I walk to the mirror and add some glitter next to my eyes. “Better,” I say. Now this is better. Free from him is better.