subject line: mononucleosis, the kissing disease.


asheville, north carolina 

Fifteen days ago, I kissed the boy I’ve loved for a year and a half. A day later, I started feeling sick. Nine days ago, we stopped talking. And yesterday, I found out that I have mono. The kissing disease. Maybe I got it from him, maybe I didn’t. But I think that God has strange ways of concreting the lesson that I’m not supposed to be with this boy, and I guess one of those ways comes in the form of mononucleosis.

My friends have been telling me not to be with this boy for a very long time now, but I kept telling everyone, including myself, that I was so consumed with love for him that I couldn’t stop. It has taken this diagnosis of the kissing disease to finally make me see what my friends have been telling me for over a year.

I mentioned earlier that the boy and I have stopped talking. I know there’s no way that he is reading this. But this is for you, the boy I swore I could never stop loving:

You don’t deserve this letter. You flighty unreliable ass, you don’t deserve a thing from me. I deserve thousands of times better than you. Do you want to know the reason that I swore that I loved you for so long? Do you really want to know? Because I sure as hell do. And here is as good of a reason as any.

Because my life is boring and your drama brings excitement. Because you’re like Chuck Bass; you’re not safe and you’re dark and you know how to make people want you. Because I see you as the boy that I can save, you’re the Beast to my Beauty, the Nathan Scott to my Haley James, except for though you claim to want to become a better person I know you won’t change for me or for anyone but yourself. I can’t force that change to come about, no matter how much my pretty little private school heart reaches out to your drug infested mind.

I deserve to be treated better. You told me that once. You’ve told me so many times that you can’t fit into my world, and you can’t. You don’t even want to, be honest. You used to be my refuge and my salvation when my thoughts threatened to drive me insane. But you know why?

Because you were also my horror story. You were also the voice in my head that rejected me over and over again. But then you would come back and say I’m sorry and of course I still love you and then you became my salvation. How could I let someone have such a strong death grip on my emotions, on my mental health? Why would a girl put herself through that torture? For love? Love is not worth mental instability. That is not love. That is trauma and poison.

YOU DON’T DESERVE MY LOVE. My love is long-lasting. My love is passionate and proud. My love is joyful and supportive. You can’t drop me and then come back and expect that love every single time, okay? You can’t expect that anymore. I don’t want to give it to someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Yes, you were my first love. Whether or not you deserved it. All I know now is that I DESERVE BETTER. I have finally come to terms with that. Finally! And it is so damn freeing. You don’t deserve me. My friends have been telling me this for ages and now I can finally say the words myself. You don’t deserve me. You don’t deserve me.