To my first love,

You were a fantasy. Perfect only because you were entirely fiction.

No, I don’t mean you didn’t exist. I mean, it didn’t matter who you were or what you did. You were my first love. Nothing would change that. Nothing could erase it. In fact, no matter what you did in your life it wouldn’t and couldn’t erase my image of you.

We all have our first love, I’m sure you know about yours. A perfect illustration. A picture drawn by our own hand to represent everything that we want someone to be. The first person we’re obsessed with.

I read somewhere that a lack of communication can make us idolise a person and I think that’s a big part of first love because no matter what, it ends. The first person you love changes you. They impact your life whether or not you get them or not and in a way they set a standard for all the relationships and feelings that you form afterwards.

But what I loved most about my first love wasn’t who he was, it was who I thought he could be. Every night that I spent crying over him and the fact that I could not have him when I was thirteen, every heart wrenching Facebook relationship status I saw in my early teen years and every time I wrote his name in my little notebook was just a characterisation of the unobtainable dream that we were meant to be together.

I wasted a lot of time on my first love but if I could back I would do it all over again because that connection is special. Special and irreplaceable. It teaches us how to feel and also how to get over things, how to accept that some things aren’t meant to be — that in some cases they will only ever be childish fantasy.

So to my first love, it was awesome.

I hope you’re doing well.

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