Sometimes I want to call him up and talk to him. See how he is. How hes doing. If he still remembers who I am, who we were, what we lost. I wonder if he ever misses me like I sometimes miss him. I wonder if he ever regrets anything, if he ever thinks ‘what if?’. I wonder if he wonders what we would be right now if everything didnt go down like it did.
There are certain songs that trigger memories so strong and so powerful that it shatters me, shakes the very core of who I am, leaving me to pick up the peices of my broken heart all over again.
Here Without You. This Girl. Love The Way You Lie. To name a few.
It hurts in doses. Not all at once. For the first few months, it was like nothing even ever happened. But now life seems empty sometimes. Your first love is important. Your first love changes you, your perceptions of the world, of love itself. Your first love is unforgettable.
Your first love was novel. A new experience, from A to Z. Everything. New. Feelings. Emotions. Winks. Smiles. Laughter. Tears. Crying on his shoulder. Texting at all times. Sharing secrets. Exchanging passwords. Theres connection. Theres passion and excitement and exhilaration that wasnt there before. And its all shared with one other special person who is going through the exact thing you are, who can understand better than anyone what you’re feeling. You feel on top of the world. Like you can do anything as long as they’re by your side. And then after you’ve said what you needed to say and done what you needed to do, you both can grow old together, sharing secret gestures in a room full of people and understanding them, looking back at old memories, laughing about them, teasing each other, knowing even during fights that you’ll always have each others back.
Its always sad how first loves barely work out. Because first loves are usually the most pure. Afterwards, everything is jaded, been there done that, somehow a little less special.
Its not enough.
It will never be enough.