I am not perfect. I am delicate and rude and when I look at myself, I like myself. I am not horribly fond of myself but with each mistake, I learn more about myself, learn more about what I can withstand and learn the true meaning of what it is to be a good person. So, now that you have left and I have been hurt, I realize what it means to feel sadness and I am accepting of the fact that there was no real love to speak of. I will be just fine, for I have learned and experienced. I will move on as though you did not exist, but I will remember each kiss and gentle touch. I will remember each loving word and deceitful smile. I will remember them often and happily until the memories begin to fade and I once again find someone who will attempt to hurt me in this same manner, who will have the same intentions as those before him. This time, however, I will not be as easily swayed.