Meeting someone new is a beautiful thing, it’s a new beginning, and a new adventure. The scary part is you never know the kind of relationship you will have with this new person. And for someone who’s never experienced love before you don’t know how scary it can actually get.
The first time I met him I could tell it was different, we were automatically intrigued with each other and found every lame excuse we could to talk to each other and see each other. Soon it became our nightly routine to stay up all night on the phone, talk every waking second of the day, see each other whenever possible, we were obsessed with each other. I had never gone on an actually date before him, I never became so reliant on an other person before him. He was becoming my first for everything, and I had gained a trust for him I never had for someone before. It was all so perfect, I finally understood what all those song lyrics and movies were about, but our flamed burned so big and so bright all too quickly.
Excuses to see me became excuses for not responding and standing me up, his promises revealed to be empty. My issues became his inconvenience and I saw an end coming closer and closer. The person I used to credit for the permanent smile on my face was now the one responsible for the tear stains on my pillowcase. Neither of us wanted to admit it though, it started off so perfect and we both tried to cling on to the beginning, only to get burned by the flame we created. Trying to hold on we hurt each other more and more with every sentence we spoke, venom was in our words and in this battle his poison was stronger.
He’ll never admit he still loved me but he still clung to every remnants of me after I left him, and I was foolish enough to go back every time he uttered the words “I’m sorry.” Sleepless nights, tears, trying to move on just to end up back in his arms for only one night. He may have never laid a hand on me but the scars he left emotionally were deep enough that everyone could see. Torturing each other by refusing to leave and let go, running in endless circles trying to search for some sort of happiness. Were we really naive enough to think there was any benefit in staying? Finally I took it upon myself to end it all, for good.
Ultimately I realized that we were in love with the beginning not with each other, and that’s what happens when you first discover love. You become so infatuated with the idea of it rather than the person you’re with, and with this you can never grow as a couple. You become two dramatically different people and the relationship turns toxic, it all happens right under your nose without anyone noticing. But this isn’t real love, this was the learning experience but before either one of us could find real love we had to let go of this idea we had become obsessed with. The idea of the perfect love story.