I was strong. Smart. Independent.A girl with big dreams and the drive to chase them.Become a biomedical engineer. Get into Johns Hopkins. GPA? Always above a 3.5.No distractions. No detours. Just grind.

  I was that girl. The one who always had her head straight.School? I crushed it.I didn’t always feel confident, but I showed up. Tried. Pushed through.I wasn’t some genius. But I was her. Built for something more.

  And then he showed up.And everything shifted.

  He wasn’t like the others.He left a mark. Not a visible one—but I felt it. Deep.I caught myself looking at him across the cssroom, repying old moments like I was stuck on a loop.Usually, I’d break it off and move on. Easy. Clean.

  But not with him.

  Why am I still holding on?We were toxic. Everyone saw it. And ter on I saw it too. He made me apologize for things I didn’t even do. Made me question my own realityIt was breaking me. So why do I still feel this way?

  I remember that night—te summer. 1 a.m.I texted him. Told him I was done. My friends finally pushed me to do it.He begged. Said he needed me. Said I made him happy.And yeah... I almost caved. A million times.But I couldn’t. He made me weak—and I’ve never been that girl.

  Still, I called him. Just to hear his voice one more time.He picked up.

  “Is this really what you want?” he asked.

  I was crying.And I lied.

  I said yes.Then I ended the call. And ended us.

  My hands were shaking. I couldn’t breathe.It was only four months, but it felt like I lost a lifetime.

  I thought I hated him.I said it enough.Until one of my friends looked at me and said:“Just admit you’re not over him.”

  Everything clicked.

  I’m not.

  It’s been a year.And I still catch myself staring. Wondering.Missing him.

  Is this love? Or something else?I don’t even know.

  He was toxic. He maniputed me.I know he didn’t mean to—but he still did.So why can’t I let it go?

  Will this ever fade?Can you love someone who brought out the worst in you?

  I don’t have the answers.But I know this:He’s still in my head.Like he carved his initials with a knife—permanent, sharp, impossible to erase.

  And somehow even after everything…Santiago, it’s still you.