Dear First Love,
It’s
been a while since we’ve communicate. Now, don’t get all worked up thinking
that this psycho bitch wants to get back together. No, I’m doing alright so you
can call the hounds off. I just want to catch up with an old friend. How are
you? I’m doing alright, not that you’d care.
Dear First Love,
There's so much to say yet I'm at a lost for words. Perhaps I should start out with the classic "how are you?" and then you'll reply half hardheartedly that you're fine but we both know our minds are racing at the speed of light yet our mouths are numb, unable to process the words our hearts want to say. It must have been a major shock seeing me again for the first time since the last time we saw each other was 22 months ago.
I admit, there were too many times I would dress up
Dear you,
Hey, how ya been? We haven't spoken in a while. Yeah, we ran into each other earlier this month at Carthage but we didn't exchange words, only glances - afraid to make eye contact. I thought in the 22 months since we've last met the emotions wouldn't be as strong but I was wrong. I knew there was the possibility that we would cross paths there but I push the thought aside because this was a Vietnamese event all the way in Joplin. The event lasted from Thursday morning until Sunday night, there were thousands of people, and the area was dark and vast. The chances was slim. I was in the front row, recording and snapping shots of the performers and having a good time until I spotted a familiar face on the other side of the crowd. I had to do a double take. Was that the face that haunted my dreams for months on end? Was that the face I loved so dearly? My chest tightened, adrenaline racing through my veins and a blurred vision I scoped around for an escape. Unable to fee, I had to swallow the tears and clutch onto my crumbling mask.
My eyes would flicker from the performers back to your face. You were still sporting that dark caramel hairstyle and the nerdy glasses you picked out to match with mine. You've filled out, in a nice way. There's a saying that when people are happy in relationships they gain weight. Is that true? You're happy with her? I scanned the crowd but I didn't see her - one less worry off my mind.
A lot has happened and I hope you're proud of who I've become.
Dear First Love,
There's so much to say yet I'm at a lost for words. Perhaps I should start out with the classic "how are you?" and then you'll reply half hardheartedly that you're fine but we both know our minds are racing at the speed of light yet our mouths are numb, unable to process the words our hearts want to say. It must have been a major shock seeing me again for the first time since the last time we saw each other was 22 months ago.
I admit, there were too many times I would dress up
Dear you,
Hey, how ya been? We haven't spoken in a while. Yeah, we ran into each other earlier this month at Carthage but we didn't exchange words, only glances - afraid to make eye contact. I thought in the 22 months since we've last met the emotions wouldn't be as strong but I was wrong. I knew there was the possibility that we would cross paths there but I push the thought aside because this was a Vietnamese event all the way in Joplin. The event lasted from Thursday morning until Sunday night, there were thousands of people, and the area was dark and vast. The chances was slim. I was in the front row, recording and snapping shots of the performers and having a good time until I spotted a familiar face on the other side of the crowd. I had to do a double take. Was that the face that haunted my dreams for months on end? Was that the face I loved so dearly? My chest tightened, adrenaline racing through my veins and a blurred vision I scoped around for an escape. Unable to fee, I had to swallow the tears and clutch onto my crumbling mask.
My eyes would flicker from the performers back to your face. You were still sporting that dark caramel hairstyle and the nerdy glasses you picked out to match with mine. You've filled out, in a nice way. There's a saying that when people are happy in relationships they gain weight. Is that true? You're happy with her? I scanned the crowd but I didn't see her - one less worry off my mind.
A lot has happened and I hope you're proud of who I've become.
Linh
Dieu Lam
Samantha
Bell
Honors
COMP I
26
August 2014
I
could not continue living without him, or so I believed. I found myself in him,
so losing him meant losing me as well. No one suspected that I would be dumped
by him. They all thought it would be the other way around since it seemed as
though I yield power in the relationship. What they didn’t realize is that he
wasn’t perfect either. He would scream, scoff, growl, throw and bangs things
violently, and kept me crying in his room – begging him to let me leave.
But
I still loved him. Now, how would a 16 year old know what love truly was? What
is the difference between infatuation and love? What is love to begin with? I’m
still not sure but I knew I loved him. If the very thing that completes me doesn’t
love me anymore, what was I to do?
I
relied completely on him. He was my best friend; he was who I envisioned my
future with. He was my mirror. I was even closer to his family than my own. I
felt as though my family was too critical and pessimistic so I connected to his
with greater ease. Surrounding and submerging myself in him and his life, I
lost who I was.
It
was my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten jealous; I shouldn’t have gotten insecure
when he started spending less time with me, opting to chill with other pretty
ladies. I should have cut off my friendship to other male friends. I should
have dressed up more. I should’ve done more than decorate your room in
apologies, cards, and gifts. It wasn’t enough to get off an 8 hour shift and
drive to his house to spend time with him until 2AM. My love was never enough
for him because he was already sick of me.
I
sunk in the abyss of depression. Everything was tasteless with a hint of
bitterness. The world was bleak and silent. An honor roll student dropped to a
barely passing student. Work became my sanctuary; alcohol was my daily pain killer,
chugging down a bottle or two to wash away the tears. I lost my focus, thoughts
wandering to a fantasy. I couldn’t bear a life without his essence so I attempted
to end it. I failed, pulled back by my mother who I couldn’t open up to. Broken
and tired, I cried in her arms without explanation while my 7 year old sister
and 6 year old brother looked upon a sister who they’ve never seen shed tears,
frighten and lost.
He
was my prince, my sunshine. In order to grab his attention I went out more, stayed
out until the rooster called, and filled the void in the my heart with
materialistic matters.
Nobody
wanted to be there for me. All of our mutual friends, even the ones who had gotten
to known me first turned their back to me. I was an outsider, scorn and judged.
He was the perfect one. I, the corrupted. I heard from others that in the past
when we were still together he would bag on me so it was him who tarnished my
image, calling me a psycho bitch when I tried to prove my sincerity. I may have
pointed out his flaws from time to time but whenever anyone dared speak ill of him,
I came to his defense.
