An Open Letter 'To All The Boys I've Loved Before' In Celebration Of The Upcoming Movie Sequel, 'P.S. I Still Love You'

Because sometimes you just gotta get it out there.

letter to exes, to all the boys I've loved before, sequel To All the Boys I've Loved Before

We’ve all had those heart racing, adrenaline-inducing loves. The first love where you don’t understand what’s happening to the last broken heart — we’ve all been there.

The Netflix original, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, follows the story of Lara Jean Convey’s adventure after the secret love letters she writes to her crushes is released. Recently a sequel called P.S. I Still Love You was announced to the rom-com and we couldn’t be more excited.


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Although I’m sure every boy I’ve loved before knows how I feel, I’m going to pull a Lara Jean Covey. I’m writing everything down to make sure it’s known. It’s terrifying, but Lara got her Peter Kavinsky and they turned out all right. So maybe it's time for all of us to start confessing our real feelings too. 


So I'll start.

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To the Softest Heart,

You’ll never know how often you made me laugh or why it meant so much to me. Learning to swim in Staten pools, we chased each other and had feelings we didn’t quite know how to describe. You knew how to make me smile without even trying. Bellies ached in joy. In my youth, I see your face and everything is okay.

But people grow up, smiles fade and hearts harden. You drift apart from people you thought would be yours forever. Maybe that’s OK, too. We were much too young to comprehend forever, but you will remain a distinct photograph in the album of my mind.


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To the Finicky Heart,

I dreamt I told you off. Anger and frustration. Pain. It poured out of me as without a plug to stop it. You were indecisive in a time where I was so sure about you.

I reassured you the worth you had, the reasons you deserved to be loved. I stuck by my decision that I would always fight for you. But you wanted more. Or maybe, you wanted less.

You’d choose people, anyone but me, to spend your moments with. I’d never tell you how hurt I was. I thought if this was what you needed, then I’d let you figure it out. And, in the nights, when you came back to me I let you in so easily. I was your shelter from the storm. Although I built a roof over your head, it still wasn’t enough.  


You wanted a mansion when all I could provide was a home. So when you left, I took all the materials I used for you and vowed to save them. I promised myself to keep them for someone who’d build a home with me.

Still, I see your pain. Your fears. Even having been gone from your life your finicky heart lays restless. Same story, different day. I hope you find a home.

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To the One That Got Away,

I’m still healing, I hope you are, too. I regret the promises I couldn’t keep, I hope you do, too. But you always had a stubborn mind, never believing your faults until it was far too late.


Over the years, we played this game of to and fro. I pulled and you pushed. For a while, it worked. I didn’t mind popping in and out of your life nor did you. We worked like that. We’d forget the reasons we didn’t work until we remembered exactly why.

The first time it happened, I fought so hard to keep you and letting you go tore at every fiber of my body. But you hurt more than you loved.

Time passes and seasons change. “I miss you” echoes from late-night phone calls. It’s patterned. Routine. Addictive and cyclical. Together we lit so bright that we burned each other out.

I hope you remember Port. I hope you know despite what we’ve done to each other, I still wish you find what you’re looking for. You searched for answers that I couldn’t give you. Questions kept you up at night.


Unresolved hearts will always lay restless but I promise you’ll find peace soon.

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To the now,

I’m scared of the future. I have doubts and insecurities that if I bring up, it’ll only worry you more. You are the first consistent place in my life.


You never left and you always knew. From the moment we met, you knew you wanted me and no one else. That scared the crap out of me. I’ve always wanted that kind of security but after years of uncertain seas, it’s a shaky feeling stepping on solid ground.

There’s nothing more I want than for you to be happy. So I hope you are.

Love, Isabella.


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Isabella Ong is a writer who covers astrology, pop culture and relationship topics.