“Come on, talk to me.” I said this as I lovingly ran both of my hands over his arm. He reclined on our bed with a stoic gaze. “Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe I was just imagining it all. Maybe everything was fine.” I thought.
“One thing I know about both of us is that we’ve always been able to communicate.” I could feel each hair on his arm standing on end as my fingertips grazed his forearm and finally rested at his wrist. “It’s really not a big deal,” I said. But it was a huge deal.
“You know this stuff happens, I just want to know for sure because you’re not talking.” I said these things with an almost exuberant smile, but inside I felt like a million sharks were ripping me apart limb by limb. “Come on talk to me, please! I feel like something’s wrong, you’re acting differently.” I said. “I won’t be mad, I promise. I just don’t want to feel crazy anymore, I know something is wrong!” I leaned in to reassure him of my love, the taste of his skin meeting my lips as I lightly kissed his cheek. I could feel my face slowly contorting from the facade of complacency to unassailable defeat. He was my first love, and at eighteen I was sure he would be my last. We’d been through everything together, he knew me completely. We had been dating for almost two years and in my naivety I made him my “everything,” this couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening! And then he did it, he spoke, and as every word left his mouth my heart was becoming ever increasingly dark and baron. Was I still breathing? Could he see the pain overflowing from my heart slowly engulfing the expression of my gaze? I smiled and looked at him with compassion as he explained. He had been seeing her for a while. He liked her. He wanted to be with her. 2 “Well, I’m glad you told me,” I said as I smiled. My body felt like jelly. I felt like I had disassembled into a trillion pieces all over the floor. I was completely broken and his words cut into the deepest part of me and all I could do was pretend. And then, it happened. I can still see his face. He sighed, and I saw all the stress and lies he …show more content…
The hardest part was seeing the man I thought was eternally committed to me feel such great relief when he let me go. I could see the weight of it all leave him while I was barely breathing. Sometimes I wonder if I handled it correctly. I never told him how much I hurt for him. I never told him how much I loved him. And sometimes I am haunted by the memory of him. Sometimes I am haunted by the feelings I held in that I never allowed myself to release or express to him.
Do I want to be with him now? Twenty years later would I rekindle the flame of first love if able? I don’t think so, but I wonder if I had been honest would I be free of the emotional wound it left me? Of this I am not sure.
But one thing I have practiced since the heart ache of my first love, I am honest. No matter what is said or thought of me, I tell the truth to myself and others about how I feel. I refuse to pretend.
3
I allow myself the freedom to express myself without the worry of judgement from others. This is the lesson of my first
“One thing I know about both of us is that we’ve always been able to communicate.” I could feel each hair on his arm standing on end as my fingertips grazed his forearm and finally rested at his wrist. “It’s really not a big deal,” I said. But it was a huge deal.
“You know this stuff happens, I just want to know for sure because you’re not talking.” I said these things with an almost exuberant smile, but inside I felt like a million sharks were ripping me apart limb by limb. “Come on talk to me, please! I feel like something’s wrong, you’re acting differently.” I said. “I won’t be mad, I promise. I just don’t want to feel crazy anymore, I know something is wrong!” I leaned in to reassure him of my love, the taste of his skin meeting my lips as I lightly kissed his cheek. I could feel my face slowly contorting from the facade of complacency to unassailable defeat. He was my first love, and at eighteen I was sure he would be my last. We’d been through everything together, he knew me completely. We had been dating for almost two years and in my naivety I made him my “everything,” this couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening! And then he did it, he spoke, and as every word left his mouth my heart was becoming ever increasingly dark and baron. Was I still breathing? Could he see the pain overflowing from my heart slowly engulfing the expression of my gaze? I smiled and looked at him with compassion as he explained. He had been seeing her for a while. He liked her. He wanted to be with her. 2 “Well, I’m glad you told me,” I said as I smiled. My body felt like jelly. I felt like I had disassembled into a trillion pieces all over the floor. I was completely broken and his words cut into the deepest part of me and all I could do was pretend. And then, it happened. I can still see his face. He sighed, and I saw all the stress and lies he …show more content…
The hardest part was seeing the man I thought was eternally committed to me feel such great relief when he let me go. I could see the weight of it all leave him while I was barely breathing. Sometimes I wonder if I handled it correctly. I never told him how much I hurt for him. I never told him how much I loved him. And sometimes I am haunted by the memory of him. Sometimes I am haunted by the feelings I held in that I never allowed myself to release or express to him.
Do I want to be with him now? Twenty years later would I rekindle the flame of first love if able? I don’t think so, but I wonder if I had been honest would I be free of the emotional wound it left me? Of this I am not sure.
But one thing I have practiced since the heart ache of my first love, I am honest. No matter what is said or thought of me, I tell the truth to myself and others about how I feel. I refuse to pretend.
3
I allow myself the freedom to express myself without the worry of judgement from others. This is the lesson of my first