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My First Love...
He once thought I was in love with him. I did too. I believed if the person said those three words to you, you had to repeat them back. So I did, and it got me no where. Instead it left me even more confused. I'd walk halls and ponder the meaning of our relationship. Repeating over and over to myself how much I really did not love him. Would I ever get the courage to say it to his face? Maybe not.
So I continued to play the game, and let him enter me. Thrusting, as if only reaching for his own orgasm. I'd lay and think about how much I really did not want this. I still remember the pain I felt when he first forced himself into me, making me lose my virginity. I couldn't understand what was wrong with me. How come I did not love him? Didn't he mean it, when he said he loved me?
After we ended I was in pure agony. My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest and torn into pieces. I could still feel his every touch, when I lay in bed alone. Attempting to drown myself in my tears, I cried for my loss. I remembered how he'd lay next to me, and I could curl up into the crevice of his body. I ignored the fact that I always doubted my feelings for him. Forgot about how he was hardly there for me, and could never understand me at all. I only thought of how I no longer had anyone I could say "I love you" to. I wanted that someone in my life, and I thought he was it. I didn't believe that he had left me for someone else, especially "her".
I walked down the hall, purposely, in front of him one day. Wondering if he could see the knife he twisted into my back. I could feel once again the thrust of that cold steel, ripping at my spine, dancing with the tangles of my heart. Why did I torture myself so much, make myself depressed? Over a guy, who never really loved me? To this day, I still don't know. I just hope that at some point in time I do find the one that I’m meant to be with.
