Let her go

Eight

Eight: The same heartbeat

I heard, that when to people kiss, their hearts beat along with each other for a few seconds.

The same heartbeat.

And I believe in that.

But I don't think it's always like that, every time you kiss someone.

In 7th grade, I had a girlfriend named Kelly, and she kissed me once.

Back then, I thought kissing was awful and I didn't enjoy that kiss at all.

And actually, I didn't love Kelly.

I just liked her, and she was a great friend.

But all kids in our class basically forced us to date, so we did.

One reason why I hate showing my feelings in class or telling someone about them - who knows who you can trust? One word, and everybody knows - and then you're screwed.

And even if I liked Kelly, and it was fun to hang out with her, and she's always going to be the girl who first kissed me, I knew it wasn't love.

And I always knew Marie, a dead girl, meant much more to me.

I love Marie, and never loved Kelly.

I don't know if you can actually count it as a first kiss.

It was more a quick lip touching, without feelings.

Two days after that, we made a deal: We would break up but remain friends, and tell the others she found another boy.

The kiss wasn't pleasuring or something to me, and Kelly felt it, so she knew I didn't love her.

She wasn't sad at all, "it was worth a try", she said.

I liked her even more after that - but still friendly.

So we made that deal.

We were sure they - the others who forced us - were going to accept that.

And they did, and we were really good friends till High School, when she moved into another city.

I lost the contact to her, and when I think back now, that makes me kinda sad.

Kelly Norman died last year, in the age of 15.

She was involved in a car accident when she crossed a street with her bike and the car driver didn't see her early enough.

Nobody's fault, though, it was a dangerous street to cross.

The car driver survived with a few scratches, but Kelly died a few minutes after the crash.

I remember talking to the car driver once, and he said he held Kelly's hand while she took her last breaths, and she smiled.

She smiled, without any worry, and she seemed happy.

Kelly had always been happy.

And she didn't die in pain, she died in peace, in the young age of 15.

Her father called me and invited me to her funeral, only one of the many ones I had attended.

When I entered the church back then, alone, I reminded myself that Kelly purposely had a new life now.

New friends in her new school.

And that was the truth.

I met her new boyfriend, a nice guy who was heartbroken when she died, and I told him I hoped he would get better.