I know it's you.

Dear Anonymous,
You say I've only heard half the story and I don't know what really happened. To say that, while commenting as an anonymous author says that you are not proud of the way the situation was handled and can't own up to your own actions. If I really didn't know the whole story, you'd say it in person, or at least under your own name. The fact that you can't do that speaks volumes.
According to you, I'm clueless and should just forgive and forget. You are wrong. I know everything. I've read the letters and emails. I've heard both sides of the story from those outside people who got involved. And I've lived it. 
In the nine years this has been going on, you've missed exactly half of my life.
I've graduated Primary, received my Young Womanhood Recognition award, moved from YW to Relief Society, been co-president of a Seminary council, and spoke at Seminary graduation. I graduated from not only elementary school and Jr. High, but High school as well; with no acknowledgment from you. You never saw pictures of me at the Sterling Scholar awards or my high school dance groups. You didn't watch me play lacrosse, or see me cross the finish line for any of my three Ragnar relays. You don't know that I helped design an entire line of prom dresses, am majoring in English, and haven't seen my awards for newspaper design. You weren't there when I went on my first date and you won't be at my wedding.
I may not have participated in the events that led to where we are now, but I have lived the effects for the last decade. I'm not living at home anymore, but being on my own hasn't made the hurt go away. I have my own life, and I'm fending for myself. But I'm still part of my family, and we come as a group. Unless an effort is made for all eight of us, I want nothing to do with a relationship.

It all comes down to the fact that actions speak louder than words.

You can tell me you love me [you always have, always will, never stopped], but I don't believe it.

If you love someone, you go out of your way to make them happy. You don't request that they don't send birthday cards, Christmas letters, or graduation announcements anymore.
If you love someone, you want to spend time with them. You don't intentionally avoid and refuse any contact or meeting.
If you love someone, you speak highly and kindly of them. You don't make false accusations and damage reputations.
Love takes work, and you have to show it in the way you live. It's not a word that can be thrown around to try and prove a point, but rather something that you have to prove by the things you do.
Love is the way my parents check in on me and the way my sisters FaceTime me before bed. Love is the way my best friend makes me laugh even through a letter when I haven't seen him in months and the way my roommates wait up for me to get off work. Love is the way my grandpa never misses a chance to let me know how proud he is of me and the way my home teachers give us blessings before finals week.
Love is more than a bag of cookies and a doily, or a forced conversation and a sealed envelope.

You say you love me and my family, but you don't show it.
I'm sorry I'm not trying to fix this, but I have too many other relationships with people who do love me to focus on, and not a second to spare for those who don't.