The Pain Of Letting You Go
Age 17, Jacksonville, Texas, USA
To the boy who once was my everything:
I hope you forgive me. We were 13 and so blindly in love. Middle school was the era of first loves and finding your path. I was stuck dead in the middle. I loved you, I love you so much.
Seventh grade was the year of frustration. I was caught trying to figure out my sexuality and what I wanted. I of course wanted you. But the idea of not knowing who I was, was absolute hell. We talked about it. I tried to explain to you the best I could, but the only thing you could gather from it all was that I didnt want you.
I’m now 17 in my junior year of high school. I still think of you.
We are so different now and it’s torn us apart. Even to this day, I stay up past midnight, sobbing out your name to my bedroom walls. Hoping that maybe, just maybe you might call.
Its been four years. I should be over this. But when I lost you, it was like a piece of me died. I’m not one who is able to easily let go. It’s been said that first loves are usually the hardest, and my god, were they right.
Although it hurt me when you left, I beat myself up more for letting you leave. For taking you for granted. After you left, I identified myself as a lesbian. Because I told myself I could never love another man.
I still have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I often think of you, wondering what youre doing and how you’re feeling. I hope you’re doing okay. I hope you’re happy. I don’t know if you’ve ever forgiven me. I don’t expect you to. But I hope you still remember the good memories, instead of how everything ended. Because we were so much more than a failed attempt to fly.
What did you learn?
Letting go can be a long path to walk down.