To the boy next door, thank you for breaking my heart

So many of you may know me as the little blonde-haired girl who was always attached to the hip of her mother, Allison. Others may know me as Madi, the girl who is still attached to the hip of her mother, Allison. Since my mom has overwhelmed herself with renovating the bathroom, I took it upon myself to lend a hand and entertain you all this week. I am a freshman at Millersville University (which may make some of you feel old...Sorry!) which means I stay up until 3:30 in the morning writing stuff like this! After almost a year of thinking about it, I finally got myself to sit down and write this letter. This may seem cliche to some, but anyone who has ever been or is going through a breakup will know exactly what I am talking about. I wish a year ago I had a letter like this to read and reassure me I would be fine. And to the girl or guy who may be going through a breakup, chin up! It really will get better—I promise! 

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For so long I've thought about how I should say this. How I should word it. How do you possibly address the person who made you so happy for so long yet inflicted so much pain.

At first I couldn't breathe. I am strongly convinced having a broken heart is actually an illness. My restless nights and empty stomach grieved over what went wrong. My mind replayed every last detail trying to figure out what happened. I never quite understood what was so wrong with me that you couldn’t say it to my face. What could possibly make you stop loving me so quickly when I loved you so much. I was convinced the feeling would never leave. The pit in my stomach that wouldn't let me eat would be permanent and the bags under my eyes were my brand new accessory.

Then I started to hate. I admit I may have burned many of your things. The sweatshirts made for a great fire. I deleted your number and blocked you every way possible, even from my heart. I removed your face from my room as well as my memory... and now I can hardly picture you. I rearranged my room so it was like you were never there and ditched my bed for weeks because it had the smallest, very faintest smell of you. I cursed anyone wearing Black Polo cologne, and if he played baseball, well, he was just as bad as you.

I went for a rebound, then quickly realized it wouldn't fix the heart you had so “kindly” broken. It was brought to my attention a broken heart could not be mended by trying to love again. My heart had to be carefully sewn, super-glued and duct-taped back together before it could be capable of loving again.

I started to learn. Learn that I didn't do anything wrong. That I wasn't ugly and fat, or a disappointment or a let down, not an annoyance or an idiot. I realized that all humans have flaws, including me. But my flaws made me perfect, unique and special in all the ways you lacked to see. Or if by chance you saw them, lacked to acknowledge. I learned not to judge myself based on the way you treated me, because in the end I was worth much more than that.

I am beautiful and kind. I go out of my way to make people smile who I don't even know. I'm a phone call away for anyone in need. I'm a walking billboard for acceptance and as loyal as a dog. I did nothing wrong and I did not deserve how I was treated. You taught me exactly what to avoid and what I deserve. I deserve someone who respects me enough to be honest. Who thinks of me as a priority. Someone who calls me on my birthday.

Thank you for making me aware of my worth and forcing me to build myself back up. Without you breaking my heart, I would have never been able to craft up the one I have now. Becoming the type of person that not only loves everyone around her, but finally is able to love herself again too.


The girl you strengthened


A little thing I would like to share: As my dad always says, “No man is an island, he must draw his strength from others.” Here are my others, or at least the ones I could find pictures of.

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