first of many

Liberty
Liberty
Aug 28, 2017 · 3 min read

Last night, a girl broke my little brother’s heart for the first time.

He is seventeen years old and his smile is one that doesn’t know of pain. He is tender and loving, and everything I wasn’t when I was seventeen.

He texts me and I immediately think back to my first heartbreak. I remember laying on my mothers bed, crying while she listened to Chayanne & Ricardo Arjona on the radio. I remember listening to the words I knew nothing about, and I remember them shaking me to my core.

I remember how impossible a first heartbreak feels. How it feels like something you will never overcome. How you are left wondering what you could’ve done differently, who you could’ve been differently, and knowing it doesn’t matter; yet searching for an answer anyway.

I don’t think he knows how resilient he is, and I don’t expect him to. Not when this was a lesson I learned and unlearned so many times. It’s something I still sometimes do.

I remember my mom telling me that I would get my heart broken a hundred times before I found somebody worth having my heart broken over.

I tell you this now, each heartbreak felt more impossible than the last and still, somehow I overcame it, just like you will overcome this.

I want to tell my brother that one day he’ll look back and these feelings will feel surreal. I want to tell him that one day he will look at her and feel like he knew her but it wasn’t in this life. I want to tell him she probably didn’t deserve him anyway. I want to tell him ‘fuck that bitch’, but I don’t.

I don’t say it because I don’t want to turn his love into something guarded and cold. I don’t say it because I loved that bitch too. I don’t say it because I don’t know. I don’t say it because no matter what my friends told me, the love I felt was still there.

I don’t say it because hate has never been better than love and everyone who told you that love turns into hate, lied to you.

Love doesn’t turn into hate. Love, lost love, turns into a ghost. Lost love is like the death of someone you held close, unreal for a while, always in the back of your head, but no longer physically existent. Lost love is something that crosses your mind all the time, but it can’t be touched. Lost love turns into faded memories.

Like the way I never thought I would forget every crater in an old lovers face. Like the way I spent hours memorizing a silhouette with my fingertips only to close my eyes and see nothing but darkness now.

There was a time I could’ve written textbooks about what I felt for a past lover, a time where I could sincerely tell you every single detail of my favorite days with him but after a while it all becomes… hazy.

One day you wake up and you realize they weren’t the first thought when you woke up. One day you wake up and you realize it doesn’t hurt. One day you wake up and you realize that the love you felt for them has tucked itself somewhere so deep into your heart that you can no longer hear it.

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Liberty

Written by

Liberty

i have a lot of feelings

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