A few days later he texted me telling me that his girlfriend broke up with him. He kept saying things about him wanting to die and depressing things like that. I tried the best I could to cheer him up, but it seemed that nothing was working. After a while, I had the sudden urge to tell him that I still loved him, even though he doubted anyone cared. But I knew that would only bring pain to me, so I kept quiet.

After almost two weeks he stopped being depressed and seemed to have gotten over it. I had a feeling that he didn’t want to talk to me though, so I just didn’t talk to him. Eventually we became strangers to eachother.

It was October and it was close to Halloween. I was very excited. We had recently started talking again and I told Amber that I liked him. She also started talking to him and Eric became like a brother to me.

He and I were talking on the phone and I asked him what he was doing for Halloween. He said something about making out with people. He was joking of course. I learned that he was sixteen, three years older than me. It didn’t bother me, but I wasn’t sure about how he felt about it. He seemed normal though; at least he didn’t go and call himself a pedophile.

Time went by and we had begun flirting with eachother. I don’t know how it started, but I never wanted it to end. I found myself liking him more by every second I spent with him. We would hang out or just talk on the phone. One of the things I liked most about him was the way that whenever I got hurt, he would kiss the cuts/bruises. It sounds...awkward when you say it, but it really isn’t. I knew he was flirting with me, but I couldn’t honestly tell if he liked me or not.

One day I asked him what he would do if I ever cut my lip. He responded by telling me that he would do the same as he did with all my other wounds. I spent the whole next day trying to get my friends to cut my lip for me. Some friends they are, I met him after school with an unblemished lip. We talked for a while, just sitting on a park bench, when I confessed to him that I couldn’t cut my lip. He told me not to hurt myself trying.

I asked him if it had to be cut for him to kiss it. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. He shook his head and came closer. Softly, his lips connected to mine. When we pulled away, I was blushing like a madwoman, but I was happy. I was floating on cloud nine when I got home. I felt like twirling around and giggling, so I did.

I was afraid to talk about it with him. I pretended like it didn’t happen and continued to talk to him like normal. We talked about everything- things we wanted to do when we were older, we asked eachother meaningless and stupid scenario questions, but those are probably what kept us together and entertained. By the time I had to go home, we kissed again. I remember thinking that I was the happiest person ever.

After a while, he stopped kissing me and I was worried that he was no longer interested. As we sat at our usual spot in the park, we talked. I knew I had to go home shortly, but an idea came to mind. I informed him that I had to go and we said goodbye, but before I left, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and hurriedly walked off.

November eleventh. He invited me to come to the beach with him one night. The sun was setting and nobody was there. We sat at the entrance of a small cave that overlooked the water. We talked a bit before silence overcame us. I asked him if three years was a long time, and he said that age didn’t matter.

He told me that he knew I liked him. My thoughts seemed to say “No duh why else would I kiss you?” but I replied with something a little nicer.

“How did you know?” I asked, though my thoughts were still saying what they were before.

“A little butterfly told me.” I immediately thought about Eric, since I knew Amber would never tell him. He told me that he felt the same way.

“So what’s your answer?” He asked timidly. I was confused, since he never asked me a question, but I didn’t want to sound stupid.

“Can you uh, repeat the question?” I was more nervous then than I ever was in my entire life.

“I never really asked, but I guess I wanted to ask if you would like to be my girlfriend?” I was jumping around and screaming on the inside, but I answered with a simple “yes.” I was completely and utterly happy. Things only got better after that. We would hang out and laugh like we used to, but with a little more romantic flare.

The day he told me he loved me was the most shocking day ever. I didn’t know how to respond, but I quickly told him I loved him back. At first I wasn’t sure if I meant it, but then I realized that it was true. I did love him. I think I still do.

As a wise person once said “All good things must come to an end.” And good things did end. It wasn’t overnight, but change did happen slowly. I noticed something about him. He started talking to me less and began to seem as if he didn’t care anymore. It seemed as if no matter what I said, he would reply with an “Okay?” and leave it at that. I could’ve told him that hell had frozen over and he still wouldn’t care. I felt distanced from him. It hurt. I had just realized that he was my first love, and he didn’t care anymore. I never told him that he was my first love, but if I did, he probably still wouldn’t care.

I guess it was my fault that it happened. It takes two people to start a relationship, but only one to end it. He asked me to meet him at the park sometime in January. We sat on our bench under a tree like we normally would. I was hoping that maybe, just maybe he had started to care again. I asked him what was up and he told me to guess.

“You want to know my blood type?” It was meant as a joke, really. Guessing isn’t one of my best traits.

“What is it?” I doubted that was what he wanted to talk about.

“I…don’t know.” He shrugged and silence washed over us.

“Give me a hint.” I prodded. I was suddenly serious and I knew something bad was coming.

“It’s about us.” He sounded different, not his usual self.

“Is it good or bad?” I needed to find out what was bothering him. Why couldn’t he be a normal person and just say it already?

“If I told you, you would know.” Since I highly doubted he was going to ask for my hand in marriage, still being only teenagers, I opted for guessing the worst case scenario first.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I was relieved that my voice didn’t come out in a sorrowful squeak.

“Well, it’s only for a while. My grades are dropping and I need to bring them back up. My brother is also getting my phone as well as my number.” I nodded and I was surprised at how calm I was being.

“Are you mad?” He asked. I shook my head. He then said he had to go and as I watched him leave, I wondered why I felt absolutely nothing. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t angry; I knew I should be sad, but why weren’t my tears working? I texted Amber when I got home and told her the news. She told me that it would just take some time for the emotion to set in.

As I lay in my bed that night, I thought about it and replayed it over in my head. Soon, my chest started hurting and I cried silently into my pillow, not wanting to wake my parents. I was alone. I couldn’t cry to Amber and I knew I couldn’t turn to him because he was the reason I was crying in the first place. I didn’t want him to know I was weak.


Six months went by and it seemed as if he disappeared. I still couldn’t even think about another guy without him popping up in my head. I felt like a fool. I felt like a blinded, stupid girl who let her emotions get the better of her. I knew, I knew that it would end one day, but I didn’t think it would hurt that much. I had so many questions and I felt lied to. If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have just left me hanging. It doesn’t take six months to bring grades up.

He suddenly appeared one day and told me that he had done something bad. He said it didn’t have anything to do with the law, but it was bad and he refused to tell me. He was afraid of me freaking out. He said he’d tell me in three months. I waited. The whole nine months he was gone, I waited for him to come back. I told myself that if he did, I wouldn’t go back out with him. I told myself that if you touch fire once, you get burned, and that’s how you know to never touch it again. But I wanted him back. I missed him more than I would ever let anyone know.

Three months later he came back after having left for the second time. We talked, but I didn’t have the guts to ask him anything. We talked normally and it made me happy to see that he’s still the same person. I never saw him again.

Even though he impacted on my life, I only ever dreamt of him once. I had met with my friends somewhere and I was surprised to see him with them. He acted like nothing happened, and it hurt. We talked and he would act normal. Then I couldn’t take it anymore. I snapped and yelled at him for acting like nothing happened. He was awestruck as I ran away. Though it may have been a dream, the emotion was real. As well as the fact that I wished that I could see him again.

To this very day, I still do not know the answers to my many questions. I try to live on, even though I still think about him. It feels like it’s been years since then, but it really hasn’t. It’ll be a year in a month. It’ll be the anniversary of our separation. I don’t know if I love him anymore, but it still hurts when I think about him. There’s a faint soreness in my heart whenever I remember everything that has happened between us. I just hope that he finds someone he can truly love, someone that won’t hurt him the way that his first girlfriend did. I want him to be happy. I’m not mad at him and I regret nothing. I’m glad I fell in love with him. I’m glad that he was, and always will be, my first love.