You were eager like I used to be. 16 was the time of overindulging and man did I! I was addicted to having someone on my arm.

You were the first person I wanted to make a forever with. You gave me hope that we could grow into our roles as soulmates. I actually called you my soulmate, well not to your face. I had just met you in computer class and we couldn't legally go on a field trip without permission let alone try to forge a union.

Give me commands. Clear guidelines. An itemized list of your needs.

You were exactly what I asked for. A carbon copy straight out of my mind. I should have been more careful.

When I tell you I love you, it doesn't mean we go together now. It doesn't mean I want your children. It doesn't mean I need to meet your family. I love you means I love who you are as a person. I have surpassed like and landed on love.

If you could, please disregard the previous letter left on your pillow. That has too much hubris dripping. Too much anger. Too many other emotions that negatively influenced the creation of that notice. 

This is your eviction notice. Your placeholder, an unattainable musician, is helping me move your memories. Not sure where they'll go but at this point, I don't want to know.

I'm sick of the men in their feelings and not knowing how harmful and/or annoying they are with them.

If I get too busy, overwhelmed or procrastinate too hard, you will not see me for weeks. I retreat and regroup. I go ghost.

You could be a better man, slay dragons, discover the greatest side of yourself. I could put you on the path of soul repair. I'm the kind of woman who makes real power players. I could be your Claire, Mr. Underwood.

I am sick of people like you. People who drain me for everything I have. People who take shots at my family. People with no regard for how they hurt others.

I don't know about you but I need to have the things that frustrate me in my life. I need lies and betrayal and adversity and disappointment and hopelessness and expectations and goals and anxiety and neurotic thoughts. Because who am I without them?

I used to love the mystery to you. The way I couldn't quite pin you down. How you were down the street one day and in another state the next. The well known two way connection left me with a busy tone when I needed you most. You were the most beautiful butterfly in my life. Oh how my impressionable I was then.

With every step more eyes follow the way my hips sway. Older women chastising me for the uncontrollable, smaller women tossing envy coated daggers, I am the controversy by being present.

Let me clear up some misconceptions you may have when you encounter me encroaching on your comfort zones.

When you are just you, playing people just for the hell of it is a hobby that's acceptable.

I am not your honey, sweetie or dear. Do not try to sweeten mefor your own consumption.

To the man who told me my sexual escapades were of the pornstar quality, and all the men like him, I pity you.