This is pretty personal, but I really wanted to share my year with you faithful readers.
A year ago today I became that dreaded word that every girl in a relationship never wants to become:
S I N G L E.
And a year ago today I was in the darkest place I had ever been. I had never been so brokenhearted, so hurt, so sad. I mean, I am telling you- I would classify myself as mildly depressed. Haha. And as most of you know I am probably one of the most positive happy too bubbly of people, well last year that wasn’t the case! But since then, I have healed and moved on and I also have really grown and I am so thankful for that growth. I spent a lot of my time in the beginning writing about my heartache, and my pain, and I never shared it because let’s be real- showing people how devastatingly heartbroken you are is kinda pathetic no matter how long you dated the boy for. But then, over this year I continued writing and had a few (nine) to be exact friends go through some pretty tough breakups (boys and girls) and on occasion when talking with them I would share something I wrote with them, and it seemed to help. One friend emailed me about a month later saying my words helped her heal and that she was thankful for that.
Not that I think my writing is spectacular or even good, often I couldn't type anything out -the words weren't good enough, and I would inevitably leave it off. To say the least, everything I wanted to say wasn't really a mystery, I felt like I had nothing new to offer. But I like to think that words do help heal and maybe since they helped a few- if I share my journey- it can help a few more who I would never wish this kinda heartbreak on. But it happens, so here are some of my deepest truest writings and thoughts (be prepared for future posts to be about first heartbreaks and loves):
He was my first love, and first loves are hard to forget. I truly believe that the first person you fall in love with will always have a piece of your heart. It's never whole again- no matter how much you move on, how many people you kiss, how many more people you fall in love with, or how much you give to the next person- there's something special about the first time you give your heart away. Or maybe it's because your first love usually ends up in your first real heartbreak and you never quite get all of the pieces back.
My story? Yeah, we fell in love. Then we fell out of it.
It's been a year almost, since I have completely said goodbye. The reasons are all fuzzy now, and I can't remember if it was him or I. I try to reason with myself. Sure, he might have loved me but I had too many skeletons in my closet, too many secrets I’d kept hidden away from the world. Even from the one, I proclaimed to have been madly, truly and deeply in love with- and I knew I was about to break his heart. I like to think that I stayed as long as I could and that I loved with every ounce of my being, but now, the odds were finally against us, and it was time to call it quits.
First it was for me, I needed to work on myself, and he asked me to stay. Just a silent whisper. I knew he was trying his best, but I wanted...I needed more than that. All those nights that he and I stayed up fighting, crying and hurting, I really thought somehow in the midst of it all, we'd make it. We were eighteen and nineteen, but I swore, I would never be as in love with anyone else as I was with him. And that thought truly haunts me, because whoever is next, they have to struggle with the remaining pieces of me and that hasn’t really worked in my favor this year. They have to muddle through, doing the best they can, even if I secretly think that nobody else could compare.
Then it was me, apologizing for leaving, begging and pleading for another hundredth chance. But he didn’t, he was gone for good, he moved on and that girl with her wonderful heart well she was just amazing I was guessing (so i thought). I couldn’t believe my insanity sometimes either, those nights that I would dream of him, wake up thinking of him months later, confessing that it was me he still wanted. A part of me still needs him to be brave and tell me that he loved me, no matter the mistakes shared between us. Again and again. Part of me still likes to hear that things are going good for him, and part of me aches when I hear about his struggles, even when I try to cover it up. But a bigger part of me just doesn’t want to hear about him at all.
Time has passed, too much time. There is too much distance between the both of us, and we're so far away that I wonder if what we had, what we shared...were we even in the same world? Was there really a time when it was just him and me? Was there really a time when we loved one another?
What I would give to let him go, every bit of him. His voice, his hair, and smile, his arms and hands, and the taste of his lips still on mine.
All I would ask of him is please don't ever forget what we had. Please don't forget me. Please. Move on. But please don’t forget. Because I could never forget the first boy I ever loved. And sometimes, just sometimes, I will be honest, sometimes I stop
No comments:
Post a Comment