Would you rather enter school with your pajama on or learn that your first love already has a girlfriend?
I’d infinitely choose the former.
I fell in love really hard four years ago. That’s how it started. I would confidently say that he’s the only person I seriously gotten emotionally involve with. Yes it’s true that after four years, there were definitely a lot of gorgeous men I have came across with that I might possibly fell head over hills for. But even if you combined them into one consideration, they would never beat the love I have felt for him.
Personally, I think there are no exact words to describe the very first time I experienced my heart pumped into life. I could go on and pretend it was years ago and that I was not matured enough to claim it was love that I found. But that’s not the truth. The truth is that, even though the heals have mended after I graduated high school when I am enjoying my life outside his vicinity, there were times when it struck me that maybe I am not totally cured from the heartache he gave me.
From time to time, especially when I’m home from the city, I could not help but think of him and plot some ways to have a little conversation with him. However love made us fools. So I would go change my mind. When he moved out of Philippines and settled to L.A., I found a great opportunity to move on. It would make my self-healing easy since I would not be able to see him. So he left without me even saying Bon voyage. I kind of stopped talking to him. Just to proved not only to myself but so did to him that the feeling was over. Totally over.
I think it worked. Occasionally, I would stalk his Facebook page and I would never feel a single amount of inexplicable emotion he usually unknowingly gave to me before. It was like nothing at all. That’s when I decided I was okay and all was well. Until my sister came to me announcing that my first love kept on constantly posting photos of him and his first girlfriend ever together.
And just like a villain from a Disney princess movie. I unleashed a huge dark power of hatred. In my mind, I started cursing that bitch and how punk she looked and obviously in my eyes she was the ugliest slut in the whole wide world. What really got into my nerves was that she truthfully and honestly not beautiful in any good adjective word there is in the universal dictionary. I’m not saying this because I hate her, I am saying this because I’m just describing what I accurately see.
I don’t want to be a bad person and I know I’m just passing judgements because I’m pretty upset. I’m aggravated. I’m shocked. And yes, I feel like the fault in our star is that it sometimes gives an unfair distribution of happiness. I knew that whether that girl looked like a Victoria’s Secret Model or just plain ugly human being, I would still inevitably hate her. So please be know that I am sorry that I do.
On the other side, ladies and gentlemen, what came to my realization was that: Though we could strongly made ourselves believe that we have indeed moved on, there’s still that little niche of unfortunate chance that probably possibly all those wounds weren’t completely healed or if it could still be even healed for that matter. However, as we all knew, the closest solution or advice we could brought to ourself was the fact that the sun would still come shining tomorrow so we have to moved on. Nobody said it would be easy. But we have to hold on tight and hope that hopefully, someone would eventually come along very much sooner.