There’s no other feeling like waking up to the sweetest good morning text. There is no other moment when they tell you they love you—you swear you’d freeze it in time if you could. There’s no other time than feeling like you’re the only girl he has eyes for, no other set of memories than feeling that high of the honeymoon stage, and there is definitely no other time where you will ever express this level of passion for another person again.
The magic in first loves are innocent, pure, and unfazed. When you love someone for the very first time, you literally feel like you’re on cloud nine. There’s a certain feeling you get with every text they send you, every hug they give you, and every time they tell you they love you.
My first love happened when I was 16 years old. He was older, funny, and charming, and be became my very best friend. There was an instant connection when I first met him. There was a spark that could immediately cut the tension of meeting each other for the first time. Our personalities complimented each other—we were both goofballs, spontaneous young kids who so badly just wanted to fit in, and we were fiercely there for each other every time life kicked us in the face.
I loved the way he presented himself as the leader type. I loved his approach to life. I loved the way he wasn’t scared to say what should be said, how he could make me smile on the days I didn’t want to, and the way he could call me out without ever hurting my feelings. He was the strongest boy I’ve ever met, physically and emotionally. He loved his family so much, and he could cook a feast with a snap of a finger. He had everything I wanted in someone I could plan a future with.
But we would also fight like cats and dogs. When we’d argue over the little things, it would become World War III. He was as dominant as I was, just as stubborn and as insistent that he was right majority of the time. There would be days when we would give each other the silent treatment—our egos didn’t let us talk it out the right way. There would be moments when I’d be tempted to instantly throw in the towel. Our arguments seemed never-ending. I loved him, but I didn’t love when he’d undermine me, when he’d implode the argument just to prove I was wrong, and when he’d interrupt me every time I was talking.
A year and a half later, I decided to break up with him. No matter how much I loved him, I knew it had to be done. I knew that I couldn’t take another day of my energy being drained from the countless arguments we’d have. I knew I couldn’t tolerate his constant need for dominance, as he was actually hurting me in the process. I knew it was for the best—I wasn’t his person, and I had to be okay with that.
The truth is, I will always love that boy. No matter how many years have passed, no matter how much time moves forward, he truly changed my life for the better. Regardless of the fact that the first few months of our breakup I was a total wreck, because of him, I am a completely different person today. I put others before myself; reading and writing bring my life peace. I have dedicated the last three years of life to the less fortunate, and have wholeheartedly vowed to surround myself with only the things that make me grateful to be alive. 
