Love, l’amour, the essence of life.

As a teenager, I wanted to drink this essence; I wanted to be drunk on this legendary nectar that made many of my peers starry-eyed and so adorably in love. I was near ecstatic when I realized my feelings were returned. It seemed that the world was suddenly complete, that this void to the side of me heart was filled to overflowing. I was laughing, smiling, stealing glances at him, and boy was I drunk.

It’s pathetic how we went from gazing-into-each-other’s-eyes to I-don’t-like-you-anymore in just over a month. Is this the whirlwind romance that those clichéd, Harlequin books always speak of? Funny that it didn’t really feel like romance; perhaps time passed by too quickly for me to really feel the romance part deeply.

Funny that I fell in love so quickly, when he was never supposed to mean so much to me. As a grade twelve I am all too aware of the fact that I only have one last year before the very large possibility of us going separate ways, and yet I tumbled and fell and ouch does it hurt now.

Sad that I gave up so much of me, first real embrace, first puppy-love, first kiss, to someone who hardly blinked when we separated. Sad that it still bothers me so much, when he can laugh and talk to me as if we had never been, but we had been, and I wish the memories weren’t so clear…

Was I too hasty? Did I want him too much and scared him away? Is it all my fault, or is this just my female brain trying to take responsibility for every single little thing that goes wrong in life? Is he carved from ice, or is he trying to be manly and is burying his emotions deep where I can never reach?

It’s natural that first love should lead to first heartbreak. I just wish that I can say without a doubt that this pain is worth it all. Maybe one day I can look back, free from these restraints, and declare a valuable lesson learned; a life experience survived. But for now, back to looking for Band-aids…