My first love.

Disclaimer: During an English lesson today, our teachers made us write a story on our first love. It seemed silly and ridiculous, but after one of the teachers saying that this is one way that we can get over it, I decided to give it a shot. Everything in this story is true at that point of time.

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Today is one of the days when I miss him - the lonely I-wonder-what-he-is-doing days. I do not have them often anymore, but once in a while I do, when I hear his favourite song or visit the places we used to go. I'm not sure why is it that I still miss him. It has been nearly seven months since we broke up for the second time.

Deep down in my heart, I believe that as the days go by and each time he begins to slowly dematerialize from my mind, I am one step closer to leading a better life without him. Yet it seems that I am taking forever to get him off my life and it is the toughest task to convince myself that he is no longer a part of my life.

The first time I met him I was completely infatuated with him. I just knew that I had to be with him and one month plus later, I was. For a while, I thought that my life was perfect. He was different from the previous guys I dated - he was someone who acted silly with me, someone whom I completely trusted, someone who truly understood me. I was always happy, I felt beautiful around him.

eventually, my immaturity began to surface. Three months into the relationship, I started to feel like my freedom was dwindling. I still care about him a lot, but I was feeling exhausted. I needed a break. He was not ready to let me go, but I was not going to let that stop me. tearfully, I chose to take the road of independence and broke his heart along the way.

I dated other guys, but he would creep into my mind a couple of times. None of the guys measured up to him; none if them gave me the special feeling that I longed for day after day.

I have made a grave mistake but I have never regretted being with him. I am aware that I reap what I sow. What I learned from him and the relationship was worth all the painful times we went through. There were many happy memories too.

Sometimes, I hate myself because I know that I am to blame. Maybe I will survive somehow though I have regrets, maybe I will learn to forget and just keep moving on. I know that when love is gone, I have to be strong. I know that once touched by pain, I will never be the same but time can heal my heart again. So I try to smile, but after a while, memories come back. And this time, I learned that love can burn. There is no right or wrong, I got to be strong.