when I was four, my sister told me that boys had a disease. she called it "cooties", and repeatedly told me that if I ever touched a boy, I too would get this horrible disease.

when I was six, I kissed an eight year old boy on the playground at school. I didn't think I had the "cooties" disease because I felt fine afterwards, though I ran away crying and screaming because the boy started laughing at me.

when I was ten, there was a boy in my math class who sat right behind me. he had glasses and was probably the biggest nerd I ever met, but boy did I have butterflies every time he walked into the room. talking to him was hard, because I thought he didn't like me back. I told him I thought he was cute, and he told me he had a girlfriend.

three weeks after that, he told me he broke up with his girlfriend to be with me. but because I was stubborn and my pride was bigger than I was, I told him I had moved on.

when I was 11 and in the 6th grade, my choir class went on a field trip to the amusement park. while waiting in line for a ride, a boy slapped me across the face. I fell, and banged my head on the railing so hard I nearly passed out. I sat there crying, and one of my best friends at the time, a 7th grade boy, picked me up and carried me like a bride to my choir teacher. in that moment i believed in fairy tales and thought that he was my prince, that he would always be my prince, and I would always be his princess. he was my very first boyfriend.

in 7th grade, he started talking to his friends more than he talked to me. he thought he was better than everyone just because he was an 8th grader.

he broke up with me. he said the whole thing was a dare, and that I was too fat to have a boyfriend.

in 8th grade, I moved across country and began at a new school. it only took a few days for me to develop a crush on a boy in my english class. he was beautiful. blue eyed, blonde hair that made you want to run your fingers through it and–to the point, he was perfect. which was probably the reason he had a girlfriend.

I cut myself for the first time in November of 8th grade. it was something a lot of people did, it was something a lot of people seemed to be proud of and flaunted it around like a prize. I kept it to myself, until I couldn't any longer. I told the perfect boy I thought I had loved, and he ignored it. I can't blame him, I seemed like a desperate crazy person. he was right to stop talking to me.

in March of 8th grade came therapy. for depression, for anorexia, the usual teenage sob story. I was getting better, or so my parents thought, and the day they took me out of therapy was the day I cut myself again.

the perfect boy was single again and I thought I had a chance, but the day I made a move, his new girlfriend arrived. I was hurt, but not shocked.

in 9th grade, there was a boy in almost all of my classes. popular. druggie. sex addict. the usual douche bag that many girls fell for. as a freshman; I was innocent. I still had the belief that sex was for marriage and alcohol was poison to the adolescent mind. I rarely cussed, I was quiet and did my schoolwork.

but the boy, changed that. he rubbed his hand on my thighs under the desk and held me on his lap at lunch and in p.e class. he promised to be my first kiss; he promised this everyday until the last day of school, when I learned of his girlfriend. the girlfriend he had since long before the day he met me.

10th grade was the worst. but the most helpful. I had learned the most that year, though it hurt and I was sure the pain would never end.

the first day of 10th grade, my friend introduced me to a boy. he was a senior. a senior liked me! a miracle I was sure, because nobody had ever really liked me, much less a very popular senior. we went on a few dates, and when he officially asked me to be his girlfriend, I was extremely excited.

it wasn't long before I realized his true self. he was rough and controlling and everything I didn't want. he never let me spend time with my friends, and when I was around him and his buddies, he was constantly forcing me to hold his hand and to kiss him. he was rude and never wanted to see me outside of school; I realized he didn't like me like I thought he did.

he soon broke up with me, and I was okay with that.

I met a boy online.

18. college freshmen. lived near by.

we met up; and I was attached within minutes.

we were never "officially boyfriend and girlfriend" but we were dating for a few months.

I was addicted.

we saw each other again. only twice in the four months we were talking, and I was okay when that because I was convinced he loved me like promised he did.

on New Year's Eve, my friend had a party. it was only my second "real" party I had ever been too; and the first time I drank enough to become intoxicated. my friends older brother was there, a senior at my school who I had a teeny tiny crush on in 9th grade. he kissed me, and I didn't know how to react.

after everyone went to sleep, I laid down, and he asked to lay beside me.

I let him.

he touched me.

I told him to stop.

he made me touch him.

I told him to stop.

he kept on.

he fell asleep eventually.

nothing went too far. but I was terrified. more scared than I had ever been. I crawled in bed next to my friend and slept it off.

it was a week before Valentine's Day when I asked the boy I met online what I meant to him.

"now, I only think of you as a friend."

"you're just too young."

"I never really loved you."

ouch.

major break down. nothing I've ever felt before. I cried and I cried and I thought it would never end. I cut and I cut and I demanded he give me a reason.

why? after all this time why just now decide?

"it's just...I've had a girlfriend for two years now...and I love her and I just can't hurt her anymore like this."

ouch again.

it took a few days to stop crying myself to sleep.

I met a boy online again. im going to call him B, because he's important to the story. he lived less than an hour away and I could tell I was getting extremely attached to him extremely quick, and I wish I knew why. but he was gentle and sweet and though I never met him in person, but he made me feel special.

we had planned to meet one day, go to the mall and spend a few hours together. but something with my family interrupted that, and our plans were ruined.

a few days passed before he answered any of my anxious and depressed messages asking why he wasn't talking to me and begging for him not to forget about me.

he had met someone.

and as pissed off as I was,

you can't force someone to have feelings for you if they don't. sometimes you have to let other people be happy.

that's when everything changed.

alcohol was beautiful.

sleep was my best friend.

grades dropped.

friends went away.

boys came and left as they pleased and I was okay with that.

there was one who kissed me the entire movie date; he had never once let my lips leave his and I was okay with it because I needed to feel something too. and then he said "maybe we shouldn't hang again, I'm just lookin' for someone like my ex, you feel me?"

no, I didn't feel him.

there was the one who groped me in the hallway at school constantly even after I begged him to stop. "I think I love you" he said after a few days of talking.

"I can't do that." I said to him.

there was the one begging for sex.

there was the one who smoked weed for a damn living it felt like.

there was the one who lived a few hours away who I had never met, who promised he loved me but got a girlfriend without telling me.

there was the one who only texted me when he wanted nudes.

and then–then there was a boy. we met at the mall, he lived two hours away but he was in town because his dad was looking for a house in the area.

I fell.

I fell so fast.

he was mine and I was his and it was beautiful and magical and even thought we only saw each other a few times it was wonderful and breathtaking and–and no, it wasn't.

he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day; a habit he picked up from his abusive parents.

"it helps him." I told myself. "you have to let him. it helps."

he told me,"yeah, I can't have a relationship without sex."

I thought he would change for me.

he didn't.

he touched me.

he made me touch him.

"you have to."

"you're my girlfriend aren't you?"

"come on you love me."

I did as he asked because I needed him more than anything.

he smoked weed, that's when I went off on him and he broke down and cried and we stayed up on the phone all night to talk things through, and when we finally stopped laughing and talking about our future together, he said "so can I have some nudes now? or phone sex? or something? please babe."

I hung up.

he didn't text me for a few days, until one night I finally saw his name on my phone screen. "you need to call me now."

I did. I always did. anything he wanted. I did.

I called. he answered.

"you need to break up with me I did something terrible."

"what is it?"

"just break up with me."

"I can't I need you"

"you have to. please."

"no."

"I cheated on you."

silence.

I cried. I cried until the sun rose and he stayed on the phone and listened and he begged and apologized and told me he loved me and said I was his world and said I was his everything and promised he would never do that again.

"okay. I love you too:" I said.

the next day was perfectly normal. well, as normal as long distance could be.

but then he stopped talking to me again. three days without any texts, calls, snapchats. nothing.

that's when B texted me. a simple "hey, it's ____."

my heart raced and I wanted to scream and cry and tell him to either kiss my ass or go to hell but I didn't. I didn't at all.

I replied. I flirted. I poured my heart out about my boyfriend and how awful it was and how hurt I was and how things shouldn't be this way.

and B listened.

and B was there.

the next day, my boyfriend called. I didn't answer because I was busy but he left a voicemail. a 24 second, few worded voicemail. "I just don't love you anymore; I think we need to break up." and so we did.

and I was okay with that.

because I realized I am worth so much more than what I was given. I realized that he was no good for me and that he was going to spend his miserable life being miserable and I was going to grow and live and love and be happy.

and B, well, B has been here since then.

and B is the love that everyone deserves. he's the love that I wish for everyone to get in their life's. he's the kindest, most caring and understanding boy I have ever met.

I fall asleep knowing he loves me.

I fall asleep knowing I'm going to wake up and he's going to text me back right away, he's going to come see me and cuddle me and be kind to me. something I was never used to.

I lay in bed and daydream about him for hours. I see him in our first apartment together, dancing around the kitchen to some Queen song constantly trying to kiss my neck.

I see him playing in the front yard with our puppy.

I see him holding my hand while we walk down the streets in Paris, a place I've always wanted to visit. I see his eyes light up when he sees a beautiful piece of art.

I see him walking across the stage at college graduation while I scream "THATS MY BABY" so loud that's all anyone can hear.

I see him as my future.

and I see me being happy.

and I know now more than ever, that love is real.