First Love

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I still remember the day I met you. It was through one of our mutual friends; strangers we were but for some reason, it felt as though I have known you since a long time. We connected so well, and then love happened. Not just an ordinary one; the first one for me. Ofcourse, the fact that I wasn’t your first stung my heart almost everyday, but it didn’t matter at all; as long as I had you with me.

Even from your busy work schedule, you would take make time to meet me and talk to me, give me all of your love; most of which I had to decode through the way you looked at me for you were so inexpressive which made me feel unsatisfied emotionally but it was fine; your presence was just what I wanted even though it couldn’t provide me with the kind of love, attention, and a feeling of possessiveness that I really needed from you, but your presence was just fine.

And in times of your absence, I would slowly sneak into a timeline of desperation, which kept growing slowly, especially after what you told me about your ex girlfriend who tried to commit suicide because she couldn’t live without you and that you needed to give her, at least pretend to give her the love that you provide me with. I was fine with it. Well I too could use some pretending, as long as I was assured about you coming back to where I was waiting for you.

But were you though?
Hours would pass by and my phone wouldn’t ping even once. I’d text you and you wouldn’t reply until you found your own time out of all the troubles you were facing. Then you’d tell me that you loved me and share with me everything that went between you and her because you didn’t want to keep me in the dark. It was breaking me inside, yet I kept a brave face on because a part of me believed that the bad era would be over soon, your ex would get over you and you’d come back to me.

It’s been so, so long and things haven’t changed a bit. I still cry every night, remembering all our good times, craving the attention I need from you which I fail miserably at getting. It’s like my heart is half broken and it’s begging to be fixed, asking for you but you just cannot give it what it wants, and you know how much all of this is hurting me, yet you are doing nothing to fix it. What gives me little peace is the fact that you expect me to wait which means that you are willing to come back. Some times I feel like I’m done. I cannot live my life in thid state of imbalance. Your love is killing me, damaging every bit of me.
But I’m helpless. Even if it’s a little apparent from your side I need to hold on to it to keep myself going.

And thus, I am going to wait, and love you unconditionally, hoping that you would be back soon. And if you cannot be there soon enough, don’t expect me to stay. Because I may be desperate, I may be in depression, but I am not in the state of denial. I’ll accept things, get hurt, cry harder than this, and get over you. Maybe it is just the curse of First love, it always hurts.
Perhaps some time in the future, I’ll find someone who would complete me emotionally, give me all the love that I was deprived of when I was with you.

So here I am writing this to you with the hope that you will read this and know what you have made me into. And if you do feel that there is nothing you can do to come back to me soon and help me out of this hell, then you have to let me go.

WingsofDelight©

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