That one first true love is always the hardest. Shoulda, coulda, woulda, but in all honesty, it was his lose, it was his issue and no reflection upon you.
When I first met my ‘first love,’ I was yet to have experienced any devastating heartbreak, so I was so vulnerably naive and excited to feel the butterflies in my stomach. Only if I had known that that feeling was the sign of the most heartless despair, I would’ve no doubt swayed away from this chapter of my life.
The anticipation for his name to appear on my phone screen or even a mere chance to “accidentally” bump into him gave me shivering hopes as a mean for ‘us’ to finally happen. Each phone call, each word, each smile he showed gave me uneasy yet delightful daydreams of that final day he would realize what a gem I am. And to my joy, ‘we’ happened. Without explicitly expressing my desperate feelings for him, my strategy of embedding my presence in his life worked and soon enough, we were labeled an…
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