To my first girlfriend:

   
It started in art class,with me complimenting the pieces you handed in, and you asking to sit with me. Come to think of it, you were sitting alone until then, displaying a shy side I wouldn't come to know of you until much later. We sat and we talked, and then you invited me to your house. I wonder if you noticed how excited and nervous I was when you did; excited to have a friend, and nervous because I was attracted to you. I had no way of knowing if you felt the same and was so scared to ruin this new friendship with unwanted stares.    
   
Then soon you invited me to sleep over, and I think the moment I accepted we both knew where our situation was leading. You were so deliciously more experienced than me, which I found out that first night. And every night we spent together. You knew exactly what you were doing, not a single touch out of place, and I'm grinning now with the memories of how sweetly you had sway over my lust.    
   
But I knew. You felt for me, you were falling for me; I could see it in you and hear it in your voice. And from that very first night I knew I would never feel the same. Sure, I liked you as a friend. And yes, I admired you for your artistic abilities. And of course I found you attractive. But romance? But love? I knew from before we ever began that I would never feel it for you. And I should have walked away; it was unfair to you, to string along your melting heart because you fulfilled my physical desires. But oh, you were impossible to resist! With your full lips and your be-speckled eyes glancing coyly and wide hips and huge ass (oh that ass!) and large breasts straining against your tops (I can practically still feel them naked, pressing against my bare skin as you crawl up by body; you know how that drove me wild). Yes, I should have walked away. It would have been the kind thing to do, but every time the guilt would build you would approach me and take off our clothes, and my morality and restraint would crumble.    
   
And then I dumped you, cruelly, in a note, like the inexperienced and selfish fool I was. A short while later I got my first boyfriend, and fell in love. You wrongly blamed Him for Our break up, and because of the jealousy between you and him, you and I drifted apart. When I moved out of town with him, you and I stopped speaking. I was so wrapped up in this new love.  
   
When I moved back to town, boyfriend and friendless, you were hanging out with a new group. You had a boyfriend of your own. We got back in touch and you invited me over to their house. These new friends were unlike any people I had ever met and I found, finally, the place where I belonged. Every moment at their house, always full to bursting with roommates and guests, was as if I had been delivered to the very place I was meant to be.    
   
I was desperate to fit in, for them to like me as much as I liked them. And you were the lowest on the pecking order. You were the one they always made fun of, your boyfriend saying little to nothing in your defense and being brow beaten into silence when he did. And then came one of my lowest moments, a time in my life I will always be ashamed of; I joined them. I abandoned everything I had always stood for, everything I believed in, in the pathetic need to be liked. My lip curls in disgust as I write this; in order to be popular.  
   
I found a new love with this group, the very person who treated you the worst of all of them. I love him still, and we are happy, but the way he was to you is ugly and I regret profoundly that I participated in it. You and your boyfriend broke up, and the cruelty of this group finally got you, and you left with us cheering.    
   
My boyfriend and I (we're more like husband and wife, to be honest), don't hang out with that group anymore. In fact, that group disintegrated, barely two of us still talk. You moved on with your life, got accepted into a graphic arts course; your dream.    
   
You and I haven't spoken in years, I have no idea how your life is going, or even where you are. And you likely don't care to know about how my life turned out, not after I treated you the way I always did. But I hope you see this. I hope you read it, and know I'm sorry, know how much I regret every cruel and thoughtless thing I ever did to you. I don't expect your forgiveness, I don't expect anything from you; I wouldn't deserve it. But I needed you to know how I felt; another selfish act I thrust on you.  
   
Katelyn, I'm sorry.