An open letter to my first love, who has hurt me more than she’ll ever know
You were so sweet when I first met you. What happened?
I first laid eyes on you at a very young age—too young to even remember—but I must admit that I didn’t find you very appealing.
Maybe I was too ignorant to understand my need for you then; but at the time, I was honestly fine without you.
Life went on, and you continued on in your own ways as well. But I always noticed you around, and I wasn’t unaware of your attempts to be around me—the way you’d steal glances at me then quickly turn away; the way you’d brush up against me just enough to tickle my side, giggling as you passed in what seemed like harmless flirting.
Of course I noticed you, but I’m sorry to say that I was just not interested in you at that point.
To be honest, I don’t know at what age I became interested in you.
I cannot remember at what point I started to get excited when you entered the room, how my face blushed bright-red at the sound of your name, how my breath grew short when I saw you approaching me.
How my heartbeat escalated at the thought of us being together.
I do not remember what clicked, but as I grew physically, I grew even more emotionally to you.
Of course, this wasn’t an obsession…yet.
I seemed to be okay only seeing you once or twice a week—life was bearable when you weren’t around.
But slowly I became more excited to see you. The more I came to know you, the more I wanted to be around you. I went from seeing you every now and then to wanting to see you every day.
So I made it known that I wanted to be with you more. And you made it known that the feeling was mutual.
I said this was a new feeling for me; you said you had always longed to be with me.
You treated me so well from the start. We weren’t always together but we saw each other every day, sometimes more than that.
And I’d be lying if I said you weren’t always on my mind.
When would I see you again?
What would we do next?
And why was I starting to feel emptier when I wasn’t with you?
It’s amazing how you can go so long without someone, then reach a point where you can’t imagine life without them.
You became my everything. I thought about you, dreamt of you, treasured every lasting moment with you. Being away from you was like being deprived of oxygen.
And so I became obsessed with you.
And while you knew of my unhealthy attraction to you, you continued to welcome me in. When I said I should probably leave, you’d whisper so gently in my ear: “A little more won’t hurt”—words that dripped with honey and were smoother than oil.
And so I’d stay. I’d give in to your seductive words that seemed to linger in my mind until I gave in to your requests.
And the more I fell in love with you, the more the rest of the world faded away. It’s hard to explain but it’s as if I didn’t care about the people and surroundings around me anymore.
I knew of them and acknowledged them, but I had no concern for them. I would hurt them and abuse them, just so I could get back to the one I loved.
I didn’t mind ruining all of the relationships in my life, or sacrificing all of the dreams and potential I once had. As long as I had you, I’d be set forever. You always told me, “We’ll be together forever.” What else did I need?
You were my everything—my reason for waking, my reason for living, my reason for existing.
So when I had to break up with you, it almost destroyed me.
I don’t remember when I realized your destructive impact on my life—just like I don’t remember the day I found myself attracted to you—but it was the day I came to the realization that you were using me for your own good. You were only for yourself, only there to make me feel good for a moment then flee to someone else.
But how could I let you go? As I contemplated breaking things off, I remembered the You of my youth. I remembered your innocent presence, your sweet words, your kindness that was more than I deserved.
I remember noticing you for the first time, remember falling in love with you.
And I remember watching you grow, just as much as I did.
But I had to say goodbye. Not a “see you around” or “catch you next time”, but simply goodbye.
People told me I was better than you, that I suppressed my God-given potential because of you—and these were the same people I rejected because of you.
In the end they were right.
I have long said goodbye to you, and it has been the best decision of my life.
There is life apart from you, and there is a life worth living far from you that I never thought possible.
Though I must admit, I still think about you a lot. How can I forget all the good times we had? And it’s like I see you everywhere, in different forms and even in different people.
And I can still hear your name as clear as the day I met you—that beautifully deceptive title that conceals darkness and destruction beneath it. How you introduced yourself so innocently, with the name that comes sweetly off the lips and gives the feeling of something that could soothe the soul and take away every ounce of pain:
“Hi, my name is Sin.”
I miss you at times, but I’m glad we’re separated.
Getting rid of you was the best decision I’ve ever made.