My mom always worried the day I would get my heart broken by a boy.

Little did she know I would turn out to be the heartbreaker.

The girl with “no feelings”. So non attached to every boy I met.

Elementary me had a crush on the popular boy in school.

That wasn’t real.

Middle school me started holding hands with boys.

Didn’t mean anything to me though.

High school me started to kiss them.

And even then, I got bored of every boy I thought I liked.

That’s the thing, I thought I liked them.

I liked the idea I made up of them in my head.

Didn’t see them for who they were, just who I created.

So it was never real.

Fixated on this idea of lust and physical touch.

The idea of someone liking me even when I didn’t like myself.

It was so validating. 

It felt real until it wasn’t. 

I didn’t like any of these boys really.

My perception deceiving the idea of what it is to like someone. 

What does that mean anyways.

The word “like”.

I like a lot of things.

I like the color blue.

I like to eat my ice cream in a cup.

I like when the sun is out and the warmth absorbs my body.

But how do I know I like you?

I now like the color purple,

I’ve been eating my ice cream in a cone,

and I’ve been walking in the shade when the sun hits my skin.

I changed my mind.

I like different things now.

I never stay long enough to feel anything deeply.

You can’t break my heart.

You can’t break something that’s not there.