well, that didn't work: an autobiography

love him

i don't know if her ever mentioned my name. if he didn't, i will.

first loves are always unforgettable. they may not be the best, but you never forget the first things. first love is magical. and they always end. i wasn't his first love. i was his second.

i am the girl he met when he was too young. he was seventeen and so full of life. i wasn't his first love, but he was mine. when we met, he had already learnt to love someone - i hadn't. but i loved him. i loved, loved, and still love him. i don't blame you for taking him from me. he wanted to leave and the best i could do was let him. what we had was just like the movies. young, naïve, and so in love. he could touch me in the most innocent way and i almost felt my skin burn, because his love was bursting out in flames from his fingertips. even when our knees touched accidentally, i used to shiver. i probably still would. i'm sure you know what i'm talking about. you are another person, but he is the same, so is the love he has inside of him. 

when you sleep together, you don't know where you end and where he starts but he still pulls you closer, doesn't he? that's what i loved the most about him. and how he wakes up in the middle of the night and mumbles i love you into your hair. and how he calls you life. i don't say these things to hurt you. i would never do that as long as you make him happy - because i couldn't. please, please do what i couldn't. he is a wonderful person who deserves all the happiness in the universe. don't be scared to show him how much he means to you. he needs it. and please, if he ever mumbles my name in his sleep, don't wake him up. just pull him closer and let him know that you aren't me. you are the person who can do what i couldn't. pick up the pieces i left behind. and if you feel like you can't make him happy anymore, leave. don't be like me to him. love him, love him, love him.

—to the girl that will make you happy someday (n.s.)