We met when we were fourteen. We were so close, almost immediately best friends.

Then, when we were fifteen, things had changed a bit. She was still my best friend, but I was also in love with her. And when she kissed me, I couldn’t believe it.

Things were so good for the first few months. We couldn’t get enough of each other—we even had to designate days that we weren’t allowed to spend time together because we would never get any homework done when we were together. We held hands, we kissed before classes, I took her out on dates and spent every single penny I ever made on gifts for her; and whatever else she wanted.

I loved her. I’m 20 years old now, and I can confirm that when I was 15 and I told her I’d be with her forever, I would’ve been. It wasn’t just an empty teenage promise. I was willing to commit. Even then.

Even when she started liking me less and less. Even when she constantly pushed me away or didn’t want to talk about us at all. Even when she canceled dates on Valentines Day. Even when she started talking to him behind my back—my own ex. I still loved her. I was constantly unhappy, but I always talked myself down. “There’s always ups and downs. It’s about commitment, even through the downs.”

I had a long, hard reflection about all the things I was sacrificing to be with her—someone who was affectionate with me like I always wanted, or someone who gave me their attention. Someone who outwardly showed they loved me. Or someone who truly loved me at all. I was giving up all those things for her.

And I know it was true love, because in the face of that realization, at just 15 years old, I took a deep breath and said “it’s worth it”. And meant it.

Yet later that exact day, she left me.

She claimed her feelings “faded”. She said she guessed she just didn’t love me anymore.

It was all bullshit of course. It was because she was talking to my ex behind my back. To this day, she changes her mind about people the moment even the thought of something new and exciting shows up. It’s not that she can’t commit; it’s that she’s flaky, and chooses not to. She doesn’t have the discipline—or love—to do so.

I’ve been with her on and off again. Each time she promises me that this time she will make the choice to love me, because she knows there will be downs.

But every time she meets a new boy, even just for a moment, she drops me.

And ya know, after five years of giving everything I have just to be let down again and again, I can finally say it.

I guess I just don’t love you anymore.