A Letter to the First Boy I've Ever Loved

8 - The Things I Never Got to Say

"I'm sorry."

You said countless times when you did something to upset me.

One of them was the night of that batch party we had. It was a wild one, with alcohol and cigarettes and other illegal things.

"I'm not the type of person who's into those things," I said.

But you bargained, "it could be fun if you tried it at least once, don't you think?"

I said, "I'm too scared, what if something bad happens?"

But you begged me, you jerk. You begged me to go.

"I promise I'll take care of you," you said. "Stay by my side the whole night," you offered.

But I doubted you were going because of your mom's birthday, you know. I had a tiny feeling you would not make it. I warned you but you said, "trust me, I'll be there." And so I went.

"I'm sorry," you said over and over when you told me you couldn't make it. "I'm so sorry," you said again and again as you begged me to forgive you with a promise of you making up for that mistake. "Please don't be mad," you said when I was already in the midst of people smoking and kissing and drinking and dancing. I was already in the middle of a place I never wanted to be in, in the first place.

You almost ruined my life that night, you know? I almost lost everything I held dear to me but you never knew. I never told you because I knew you wouldn't understand. I never told you because you were who you were. I never told you because it could have been you.

"I'm sorry," you also said to me when you knew you made the wrong decision of forcing me to spill. You said them after you got what you wanted. You said them after you realized what stupidity your actions had caused. You said them when our friendship was at stake because you finally knew it was you whom I wanted.

I'm sorry," you said again when you heard so many things you were not supposed to. You said them on that night, when I was waiting for you to join the call as I was chatting with my dearest friend. I had no idea you were already there - listening to my unguarded conversation, grasping every secret I held dear, feeding your already inflated ego with the things I said about you. You said you were sorry but you eavesdropped many many times after that, too.

"I'm sorry," "I'm sorry," "I'm sorry."

Words you said too many times and words I loved to hear. Until I knew. Until I knew that they were just words. Plain. Meaningless. You never meant them, didn't you? I know because it's true. I know because you don't remember. And I know because I remember. I remember all of it.

"I'm sorry," "I'm sorry," "I'm sorry."

I'm telling you now. I'm sorry I never replied to you those times. I'm sorry I opened your messages and left them there.  I'm sorry for rejecting your calls. I'm sorry for not saying sorry. I'm sorry because I called you terrible things. I'm sorry because I took back my words of liking you. I'm sorry because I said you were stupid. I'm sorry I was cruel. I'm sorry because I knew I was being cruel. I'm sorry I never told you why.

And I'm sorry because you are not beautiful to me, at least not now. But I know that it isn't true. I know that you are beautiful, maybe just not to me anymore, but to her. To her, a girl you've always cherished. Her, a girl you just cannot let go of. Or maybe The Girl, maybe she will think and know and feel and tell you even,

"you are beautiful."

And you will think and know and feel and tell her the same. By then, I might never even be remembered. By then, I might never come across your mind. By then, you might not know me anymore. But I will know you. I'll remember all the nights and the days and the dreams and the bliss. I'll remember all the lies I believed. I'll remember all the tears I shed.

I know because my mother, at 44, remembers. I know because my father, who's had so many, remembers. I know because my grandmother, a widow who led a single life, remembers. I know because my great grandmother, at 96 and who barely even knew who I was and why I knew her, remembers. They know the names of their firsts. They remembered all the nights and the days and the dreams and the bliss. They remember all the lies they believed. They remember all the tears they shed. I know because I asked. I know because they told me.

And I'll remember because you were the first. You are the first, even though others came before you. You were the first because the ball of muscle hidden beneath my chest knows that you are. You were the first, are the first, and will always be the first. Even though you were a terrible first and even if I wished you weren't my first.

You were the only you in my life and I was just one of the mes in yours. It stings, and it is painful but it is the truth and still, I am grateful. Grateful for everything and sorry at the same time. Maybe you'll never understand. Maybe you will. But whether you do or you don't, I mean everything. Perhaps you never did but I felt it. I'm letting you know now because even if it possibly isn't, you were probably the closest to a first for me. Pathetic as you were and pathetic as I am, I loved you.