first love never dies, but true love can bury it alive.

we met at rehearsal for our middle school play in early february 2009. i was in eighth grade, he was one year younger than me. we started talking via whiteboard, soon exchanged phone numbers, and he asked me out after only a few weeks of (nearly constant) communication.

although my feelings for him were mutual, he was the first person to ever make any sort of move in my direction, and i declined, mostly because i was afraid of my parents. i quickly got over that fear, and in the late night/early morning hours of february 13/14, we became “officially unofficial,” which quickly turned into “in a relationship.” we held hands, we cuddled backstage, we exchanged kisses and i love yous.
being in the awkward teen-aged transition stage, having a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on was exactly what i needed, and what he provided. but he gave me so much more during those six months. he gave me confidence i never thought i would have. he gave me knowledge in areas i was completely ignorant of before i met him. he gave me a reason to wake up every morning, a reason to smile all day, and a reason to stay up all night. but most of all, he gave me friendship; something i had never truly felt before.

as the relationship progressed, our feelings continued to grow more and more passionate. poems were written, memories were made, and sparks flew. but, as i’ve learned, time turns flames to embers. after weeks of constant attempts to rekindle that fire, we both kind of realized that we had gotten too serious too fast, and it was time to let it burn out.

i still care for him, a lot more than i should, and i wish he could say the same about me. i haven’t felt anything close to what i felt for him since it ended (and believe me, i’ve tried). but i continue to remind myself that the oh-so-cliched “mr. right” is out there for me somewhere.