On your first love.

It’s far too easy to think that you’re the only one. To still have those lingering thoughts, months, years, later.

Your ‘first love’: invincibility, shivers, and little eyes-closed smiles.

And post-first love: pushing absolutely everything to the recesses of your mind. Everything terrible, everything beautiful. Everything.

Butbutbutbut, it rises up, from time to time. Creeping into your thoughts. And here, you can take one of two choices:

1. You fight that bubbling horrified feeling that tries to escape from your stomach, through your chest, and out of your mouth. The good memories make you want to go back. The bad make you want to run away from ever thinking about it in the first place. Become terrified that you’re not happy because you’re thinking about the past.

2. You welcome it all. The good floats around in your mind and you pick at the perfect details you can’t even believe you remember. Exact feelings, facial expressions. You were happy. The bad: it created that space in which you could grow.

This magical idea of ‘getting over somebody’, of removing them from your memories, like an entire portion of your life is so easily removable, isn’t attainable. It follows this odd notion that love is something that runs out. That you can only give out so much before having to take it back, so you can give it out to somebody else.

Does it really work that that?

I don’t think so.

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