They Called It Puppy Love ✮

 The topic that I want to cover first is probably the one that has had the biggest impact on me from early high school to early college. That being, what I would describe as, my first love. The situation was a many high school relationships may be. Puppy love I guess you could say, I was infatuated with him. I felt stronger for him than I had for anyone else. I was a very insecure person; I still am but I think it was worse back then. I did childish things like make posts on a private story to get his attention; I'd find any reason to talk to him. I'm not sure what drew me to him, but I was beside myself with what I felt to be love. He had a good number of girls who liked him, girls who made me feel worse about myself then I did. Girls who were prettier, thinner, had better hair, were better in school, closer to what I thought to be his type. So, when we started to become closer friends, it was hard for me to believe that he would ever have feelings for me. I had already hammered into my head that he could do better, that he was better, and that he would never be mine. This was not a reflection of how "perfect" he was, but instead a reflection of how perfect I was not. I spent months spiraling about this unrequited love I formed into my head, part of me felt that that was what love was supposed to be. There were often times where he disrespected me. He'd call me a name I found disrespectful, or bring up something sensitive he knew would get a reaction out of me. I'm not sure how we got past those points. My self-respect was at a low enough point to where I didn't let those things dictate how I felt about him. I was going into the attraction under the impression that I was lucky he'd look my way. He moved to a different state, but I continued to fall for him. I continued to talk to him, and I didn't care about the distance between us. It got to the point where the lines were blurred. We had the aspects of a relationship without being in one, and it hurt me. It hurt me to feel that I was being used for attention without a title. So, I made the move, I asked him out, and he rejected me. He told me that he was too busy, he lived in a different state. This frustrated me, it frustrated me to get an excuse like distance after he would already tell me he loved me. So, I told him this, I laid out how I felt. He asked for another chance, said he changed his mind, and I accepted. So, the relationship was built on me chasing him, me thinking I didn't deserve someone like him, and him rejecting me just for me to take him on his terms. The relationship itself was fine, it was steady. I loved him and he loved me. He became a big part of my life, my identity, my routine. I still couldn't shake the fact that he wasn't here, I wanted to be with him so desperately it hurt me. It felt like I almost had it, had love, and it slipped through my fingers by not being in an ideal situation. There were arguments, distance, hollow moments. There were also good times, times where for the first time I felt someone truly loved me. Eventually I did break up with him, I couldn't do the distance anymore and once I found out he wasn't moving here I cut it off before we could keep hurting ourselves. I started talking to someone else, as a way to cushion the fact of how hurt I was. I got everything taken from me from this person and went back to my first love to tell him what had happened. Despite it all, he was the person I felt I could talk to about how harshly this hurt me. So, I told him everything, I didn't know it, but this would develop a shift. He told me he'd never take me back after this. So, he did not. He kept talking to me, so much so that I felt I still had a chance. I was back to my high school self, chasing after him in hopes to prove to myself that I wasn't as worthless as it was hammered into me that I was. He kept me around, for reasons unsure. He found someone else, even after that him and an old friend visited. It was the first time I had saw him in so long. I knew I shouldn't have gone, but I couldn't pass this up. Being with him again, it made me wonder how he couldn't see it? How could he not see how good we would be together? Although now I know that was not the case, at the time I thought surely, he will consider me again. I called him a couple days after that; I told him that I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be his "friend" I couldn't sit in the background while I feel the way I do. So, he blocked me, even when he did, I found myself trying to reason. "You don't have to do that, I wasn't going to talk to you, you know," "there's no need for that but if you want to." I still was desperately clinging; I couldn't deal with the fact of being left for good. Even still I think of him. I think of the connection we had, the way I felt understood and cared for. The way I never found that again. I don't think it's because it's him, no. I do care for him, I do want to talk to him again, but I'd be lying if I said the nostalgia I feel is for him as a person. No, it is for who we were. Who I felt I could be around him, the version of me that was open and accepted for that. Having someone that was for me, and I for them. I long for the connection, I long to know how he could let me go completely and never look back. I think of him, I wonder if he ever thinks of me. If he was able to cut me out of his mind completely and if I can learn to do that. If I can learn to stop the thoughts of him from flowing. Part of me regrets leaving, I beat myself up about it. The other part of me knows the truth, that it was on thin ice. That I was holding him back from a life he deserved. After I left him, he began to live, he began to have fun. I was holding him back from what he wanted to be. Now he's an experience, he is someone I'll never forget. I think of him often; however, I know it is nostalgias sake. I know it's me omitting most of the truths regarding how things were. A rose-colored haze over the past we shared. I long for the day it all leaves my memory, that or the day he comes back to me. 

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