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My First Heartbreak

On Moving on.

By Nat Published 8 months ago 3 min read
My First Heartbreak
Photo by Yuvraj Singh on Unsplash

Letting go means realizing that some people are a part of your history, but not a part of your history. We did love each other but we were also awful to each other. At the end of the day, I knew he was going to be there for me and I was going to be there for him. We were meant to be we just weren't meant to last. I never expected him to finish anything. He was always leaving. I still picture him with a suitcase in his hands. I always thought he would be the person who left, Not me. I didn't leave because I didn't love him. I left because he was killing me. I've gotten really good at not flinching whenever I hear his name.

For a long time, I was scared to talk about it. Because if you talk about it, it makes it real. He needed more than me. Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn't make you stronger. It doesn't build character. It only hurts. Loving someone who you know is bad for you is like being homesick and knowing you can never go home again. I knew better but he said forever. I wish I could still call him a friend, I'd give almost anything. He asked me to change and I did. I repeatedly put him first. I was scared of the love I had for him. Because I knew it would ruin me, I also knew I would let it happen. At first, I made him out to be a monster. Cause if he was this awful person then me leaving. But he wasn't a monster. He had issues but those issues came from a lot of awful things that had happened. Some I witnessed myself. He never actually scared me. I understood his anger and where it came from. If certain things were different if certain things didn't happen we would have been perfect together. It hurts to think that I was the only one who made it out. That I got help and he didn't. There was something deep inside him that I could never reach. I thought that I could grow into the person he needed me to be. Back there in the shadows find a picture of a woman wearing three years of confusion like a scar. Walking through the door and leaving nothing but a note saying I'm sorry taped to my guitar. There's so much I still wonder, Did he need me? Did he know? That was someone long ago. It almost feels like it was another world.

We were always complicated. Back then nobody looked out for me the way he did. I think I asked for too much. Loving too much always kills. It rips you apart and messes up your mind. It leaves you wide awake at 3 AM wishing you never had feelings. At the time it felt like I would never be able to go home again, Like a part of me will always be elsewhere. It doesn't matter that it wasn't true it sure felt like it was. If I stayed I would have probably married him by now. I know I was the one that left first but it was more complicated than me not loving him anymore. I did love him, which was part of the reason I knew it was time to go. Sometimes running is a brave thing. Leaving found my healing. So what happens now? Where am I going now that I'm healed?

In a sense, I was the one who ruined me: I did it myself.

DatingFriendshipTeenage yearsHumanity

About the Creator



writing about adoption, mental health, and relationships.

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