It was beautiful. It was special. He made me believe in forever, even when we were miles apart. But that’s the tricky thing about first love that everybody warns you about, and you blindly ignore; the fact that it will end. And your best friend will just become some awkward stranger you can’t call at the end of the day. It’s uncharted territory.
When my ex and I broke up, the first night I was surprisingly okay, considering I am a very emotional person who cries at everything. But I didn’t cry that night after I ended the call. Instead I called my friend, needing to talk to someone even though it was late. It probably took some time for it to set in, but eventually it did with a vengeance. I cried a lot the first week and didn’t sleep much. I went back to school the week after the break up. I started getting a lot of anxiety and was really depressed. At first I couldn’t sleep at all, and then I slept all day. But as a “good girl” I put my “I’m ok” mask on for the rest of the world. I was trying to make myself feel better by being around my friends and doing things that made me feel good, even if it was only for a little while, like drinking and partying with my friends a lot and getting my first tattoo (which went over of so well with my family).
I felt like I was supposed to move on and be over him, and all my friends kept saying I needed to get back out there and start dating again and not think about that horrible guy. But that’s why it was so hard, he wasn’t a horrible guy. He made me feel beautiful when I didn’t, and he was always thoughtful and considerate.
After a few months I thought I had a hold on my depression and anxiety, especially since I had stopped the excessive drinking with my friends, but I hadn’t. I was just lying to myself. He texted me. The first since the break up. I used to get little butterflies in my stomach whenever I saw a text message from him, but now it was just dread and anxiety It felt like a boulder was in my stomach, and I thought I was going to be sick. I had no hopes in ignoring it though, so I texted him back. But talking to him and getting explanations from him didn’t help me move on either.
More months passed and I felt like I really had started to move on, but I was lying to myself. I thought I was having less anxiety, especially after his mother stopped checking up on me, and I had even gone on a date, which ending in a horrible anxiety attack followed by more depression.
Even through all that I still felt like I could see a small speck of light, where the end of my own personal hell was. That all changed when I made the stupid decision to drunk text him, then proceed to spend my spring break with him. And I’m not going to lie, I had a great time, but I regret it now. There was no point on going there, because I knew we wouldn’t get back together. But there was hope. I took weeks for him to “figure it out.” Again. We did this whole back and forth, I miss you, should we get back together thing three times, which hasn’t helped me move on from him.
The only thing I have moved on from is the bullshit that my ex keeps putting me through. I will always love him, because he was my first love. But I am tired of being “broken up with” a million times because he thinks he made a mistake or because he misses me. And I am not sure how I would answer if he asked me to get back together again, because I do not believe I am truly over him. I still can’t listen to “our song,” but I constantly wonder if I am taking too long to move on. But how long is too long? A question I think no one can truthfully answer. Me? I’ll let you know when I get there and finally see the light. We all deserve to see the light.