Dear First Love,

I loved you so much. 

I’ve always loved you, but it ebbed and flowed as time passed. 

When we first met, age 12, I was a little behind when it came to boys. I had crushes and knew there came a point that you liked me, but I liked your friend at the time. A small crush that landed me my first boyfriend, I think. It’s so funny because I barely remember what he looked like or why I liked him. I have to sift through the files in my brain for a moment to remember his name. But I remember that you were always there, laughing and making me laugh. I felt love for you then. 

About a year later, an older guy – a basketball player – wooed me enough to get my number, and then started sexting me! I got scared to go on texting him so I ghosted. He was 16 and I was 13. 

Freshman year of high school, I started going out with Ivan who would coax me into making out and press himself against me pinning me down. I think I was supposed to want that so I just didn’t say no. We were together for a little less than a year and when I broke up with him he punched a breezeway pole a couple inches from my face where I was leaning. I just ran. I only remember John and Alexandra being there to calm me down, but maybe you were there too. 

After that, I just had little flings with a couple guys at my high school and then I met Martin. At first we were just friends but I could tell he liked me. He was older and cute. I was flattered but I don’t remember really having strong feelings for him. I felt safe with the fact that he liked me though. After about 6 months with him, I came back to BT to teach. And then I saw you again.

All it took was a glimpse from you and I broke up with Martin.

And then you and I were something. Knots from the past trying to untangle but only creating more knots. We’d talk for hours and I fell in love with your mind and your heart. You made me laugh. You could always do that. I could just look at you and laugh. 

I don’t remember much of anything specific but that you didn’t want to be my boyfriend. It crushed me. It confirmed to me my biggest fear: you didn’t love me the way I loved you. I was too eager, too much. I only felt wanted behind closed doors or in our case, over the phone. I wanted to date. I wanted to be held. I wanted to make out. I wanted to love and be loved. Did I make us up?

I think I’ll love you forever. I wanted so badly to prove that to you. Like if I just did this then you would love me back, or if I just did that then you would want to be with me. It could just be that I have no memories left, but maybe it was my fault it never happened. I think what I want to  believe is that you were just fucking with me the whole time. Because I think it’s easier to accept what I think I deserve anyway.

I don’t remember the exact catalyst for how or why it ended. It doesn’t really matter. We were simply unbalanced and I was too knotted up to see it. 

Not much later, Martin wanted to get back together, so I agreed. I thought that if I just acted like I love him, I’d fall in love with him. Love is work, you take care of a person, you listen, you support, you communicate with them, right?. That lasted 4 more years and love never happened. Not the seamless way it did with you. I worked so hard in that relationship and tried so hard to feel more for him. His feelings were stronger.

I thought about you all the time. I wondered if you were thinking of me or if I was long forgotten. Or if you still lived on the same street or if you still played music or if you finally found someone you wanted to call your girlfriend. And Martin was really insecure about you. I couldn’t talk about you or to you – that boundary made it easier to grieve. 

Eventually, I got so tired and lonely but still I did nothing about it. He ended up breaking up with me! I was barely fazed. I shed a single tear for all the time I lost and wasted, but I couldn’t pretend to be upset for very long. A huge weight was lifted. I did realize until later that I was like you in that relationship. 

And life went on… 

I met Jack. I fell in love with him and he fell in love with me the same. That was all I’d ever wanted. To love and be loved. 

But I still missed you. And when we’d talk about our past lovers, you were the one I talked about. Not really Martin. There was nothing to really say about him. It was you that I compared everything to; you that broke my heart. Jack had to be perfect. He had the seemingly impossible task of sweeping me off my feet and making me feel. And he did it.

I’ve debated how to end this because in a way, it’s a love letter. But it doesn’t end with us. This is just a knot of thoughts and feelings that never had the chance to be untangled.

Now, a decade later, you sit before me once again. And I am full of knots.