Before you think it, I’ll say it. No, I’m not a virgin. Happy? Oh please don’t act like you weren’t thinking it. Some of you probably say the words “broken heart” in the title and thought “sex” I’m like you. Then there are the other types of people who see “love” and think “sex” I’m also like you, one huge hopeless romantic who is heart broken yet still loves. The guy, this guy. Past, present, and future. Past. 3 years ago, 8th grade. There he was,  on my bus, my new friend. That friend that you share earbuds with and sip out of the same Arnold Palmer can. The friend you can eat 3 corndogs in front of and not feel judged. You really don’t realize what you have until its gone right? First, he was my first, kiss and then 2 years later, my first time. It’s hard to un-think things right, especially the things that had the most impact on you. I love him. I love the fact that we could stay on FaceTime for 5 hours just staring at each other, I love that at country concerts his arms would be around me or spinning me around. I love all the parties that we went to even if we weren’t together but would seem to find ourselves sitting on a porch swing just talking about life even if it was New Years and there was snow on the ground. I love the movies that we would never finish because it wasn’t “scary” enough. I love the random “come over” ‘s in the text bubbles. I love the way people said that we were the lucky ones.  Present. 3 years later. There he was, sitting at a table, looking at my best friend the way he used to look at me. I hate him. I hate how he made me feel like it was my fault. I hate how I convinced my self that he would catch me if I fell. I hate how me made me so cold hearted but so vulnerable to others because I think that I will find another him. I hate how we would scream at each other over the phone, and that he wouldn’t call after to see if I was okay. I hate how he makes me sit on my roof wondering which sweatshirt he’s wearing right now. I hate how rain makes me remember my head on his shoulder on the bus watching each raindrop slide across the window. I hate how he had the will to find someone else and that I can’t. I hate how I still love him. We were the perfect storm, destroying everything we would build to keep US alive.

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