He was the closest I ever got to having a “high school sweetheart.” It was very much a puppy love, like high school sweethearts should be. He was the creator of the mix tapes I got; the person I snuck out of my parents’ house to see late at night. He was the person I still attribute the meaning of so many high-school-era punk rock and emo songs to.
But I broke it off with him, broke his heart, and my own — because my parents, sister, and best friend forbid me from being with him. I wish I had known better back then. Why did I listen to them? Why didn’t I stay with him to experience it all for myself, the good and the bad? Maybe it would have spared him and I the years that were to come.
On Valentine’s Day, he stole my car keys from my backpack to leave this photo frame, the note inside it, and a mix tape on the dashboard of my car. I never filled the frame with photos of anything.
Fast forward four years…We were both at separate universities when we reconnected. The puppy love of yesteryear turned into a long-distance relationship (northern to southern California) spanning over a year. Then I moved abroad to Asia somewhat unexpectedly for work, and he followed me there.
We spent two years building our lives together in a foreign country where we knew no one. We traveled across Southeast Asia. We made new friends, saw them come and go. But somewhere along the way, the relationship turned me into a diminished version of myself. I got angry, I got mean, I got unhappy. I became “that crazy girl”, and I hated it. Eventually, I realized he wasn’t the right person for me, and we broke up when I moved back to the U.S.
I was never able to say “I love you” to him through the entirety of our two-part relationship. I didn’t know what “love” was back then, but he did. In retrospect, I’m not sure he ever did anything to deserve being with the nasty shell of me. So, to him, I want to say: I’m sorry for how I treated you. I’m sorry I was so uncertain. I know now — I did love you. It just wasn’t enough for us to work, and that’s okay.
(Originally submitted alongside an object to the Museum of Broken Relationships.)
