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First heartache is always the worst

23 September, 2003


My story began when I was just 15. I was talking to my friend on the phone, gossiping as usual, when I mentioned how badly I wanted a boyfriend, someone I could really love. She mentioned a friend of her boyfriends who is really sweet and caring and good looking. He was 17 but I liked the idea of an older boyfriend. So she said that she would somehow get us talking.
It never happened, I had to find other ways of meeting this guy.


I was finally able to get his number through my sources and I started talking to him, he already knew I liked him but he had only met me once just as friend of a friend. We started talking and I started really liking him, I didn't think I would be able to find a guy like this in the town I live in but I found one and I thought I was so lucky to have found him.


Within a week of talking to one another, we started going out. I started to adore his personality and everything about him. I met his family and I got along great with them, I felt a real part of that family. We stared getting serious, more serious than other guy I had been with.


After a month and half I told him that I was in love with him and I knew I was. I thought the world of him and loved him more than life itself. He told me that he was in love with me and that he hated it when he didn't get to see me. I believed him and I was so happy, I always had a smile on my face. Of course everyone knows that most of the time your first love doesn't stay with you (some people are lucky).


On the day after my mothers birthday, he broke it off. I never knew you could cry as hard as I did that evening. I kept going around my room finding the things he bought me for Christmas and holding the teddy bear he gave me. I kept trying to get him back over and over again. I wrote him letters saying that I miss his hand in mine and his lips touching mine. I missed hearing him say I love you very much to me. On my 16th birthday (13 days after the break up) I was seriously depressed, my mother said that he could start sleeping in my room once I turned 16 and he was going to stay that night as well. I was lying on my bed crying and all alone when I just had the urge to slit my wrists. I kept think "would anyone really miss me if I was dead? If the person I love more than life doesn't love me, than what's the point to life?" Luckily I snapped out of it and put the knife down. I still cant believe I even thought about it to this day.


Later, after about a month and a half, I called him up because I thought I had a chance as he kept staring at me around school. He said that he got carried away when he said that he was going to ask me to marry him when he gets back university and that he wanted to have children with me and build a house together and I believed him. That was the last straw, I couldn't take the pain anymore. I started trying to live my life without him, I went through the hate stage then the "don't want to hear about him stage" and now I've got through the other end happy and looking for someone new. I'm still connected to his family as his sister is my age and is my best friend. They say everything in life happens for a reason and I think I was with him so his sister and I became best friends.


I will always cherish that he did love me as he told me he never lied. I will always love him in my heart but the pain was too much to ever try again.


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