There was a time when the color of your eyes was what inspired the color of my bedroom walls. A time when your smile was all I saw when I closed my eyes, like when you’ve played tetris for too long. You were the lead character in my favorite dreams, which more often than not were reality. It was perfect, except I found you routine. I needed that then, we were predictable and comfortable, and I loved every second of it. You’d talk about how comfortable you were with me, like you could really be yourself. And I was so glad. Those words repeated in my brain, aligning with the sound of every boy before you who had also said them. I couldn’t help but wonder when it’d be that I would find someone I was completely comfortable with. Instead of adjusting myself to the latest trend. You helped me realize that I was a chameleon. Always too flexible. I’ll like most anything, and that’s made it easy to make friends, but hard to keep relationships. Boredom came easily with you. You tried to keep it interesting with breaking it off every few weeks or so, but you could never stay away for long. Once again, just like every boy before you. I regret that. You were such a good kid, filled with ambition and motive, I think I ruined that for you. I revealed to you that there was more to life than prayer and church. It was a whole new world. Unfortunately not quite the same world Aladdin foreshadowed. You’ve spiraled out of control since then, leading girls on like it’s a game, but you’ve got a trick deck. Keeping yourself from getting hurt this time. I broke you, and I’ve watched you try to stitch it all together. Joining the rest of them in desperate attempts at returning to your original self. With each one of these I write, I become more curious as to who it was that ruined me. Congratulations, it wasn’t you. I wish you the best on your journey to the past.