Midnight Moments

history

About two years ago, I met a guy who would become my first love. He lived 273 miles away, but we fell in love anyway. We dated for a couple months. He went to third base with another girl. Three weeks later, they started dating. We took about a year-long break. He dated a lot of girls, had a lot of sex. He wasn't the guy I knew, wasn't the guy I fell in love with. Nevertheless, I loved him for all that time and only hoped maybe one day he would come back to me. He did eventually. He treated me like a queen for a year. I could tell him anything, and he was always there to support me. He was the only one, really. We overcame so much together – distance, time, insecurities, trust issues. We were perfect together. We made each other happy. We were best friends. We were madly in love, until one day he wasn't. Until one day he woke up and decided he didn't love me anymore. Until one day he broke my heart. And yet I really don't see how I can ever stop loving him.  

This isn't a story about love. Well, at least it doesn't look like it right now. It's just me. I don't think there's enough out there about what happens when that love ends. What does it look like to be raw and vulnerable? What does it feel like to be left by the one you would do anything for? What do you do when your heart is broken? I'm not holding back. This isn't even a story. Screw structure. Screw acceptance. These are the thoughts that cloud my head when I'm alone in bed struggling to sleep. These are the demons that haunt me when I am most fragile. This is me, and these are my midnight moments.