You were sixteen, I was fifteen. It was not love at first sight. We had no romantic, slow-motioned first kiss. We were just two teenagers having fun. I was the naive girl who thought she would never fall in love, you were the partyboy who conquered new girls every weekend. You see, I had met and dated many guys before. Nice, romantic, boyfriend-material guys.
But you, oh boy, you were different.
I knew all about you and your gang. Popular high-school guys who could get anyone they wanted, any time. You got me. We made out on the dancefloor to a horrible techno-song, and I went home thinking I was just another conquest to you. Apparantly, I was wrong. You started texting me, and did not seem to get enough of our little talks. I was terrified of this amazing love-thing everyone was so excited about. But I let my guards down, and we slowly started dating. Turns out, you had never planned to fall in love yourself, and was as scared as I was. But, as you told me, you had never met anyone as beautiful who did not seem to be aware of it herself. You said I stood out in my gang of overdressed, suntanned, shallow girls. I was perfect, you said, and the next two amazing years you told me that every single day. Turns out, you were perfect too, perfect for me. It was like we had known each other our entire life, we just clicked. We could talk for hours, make fun of silly little things that no one else understood, and the passion was overwhelming. We took trips to Paris, London, Mexico- we wanted to see the whole world together. You became more than a boyfriend to me, you were my best friend. When I was sad, you wiped the tears of my face and would not leave before you had me laughing. When I was angry, you stared at me with puppy eyes and said the most wonderful things to make me smile again. You were my everything, we were meant to be.
Or so I thought. You became more and more distant, suddenly angry at me for every little thing. I could not understand what I did wrong, and I tried cheering you up with every thing I had. Nothing worked. You were no longer in love with me, you said. Not the same way as before. You missed being independent, wanted to hang out more with the boys, having more fun. You felt like you missed out being young and reckless. I was crushed to pieces. Had I not done enough? Had I not been a good girlfriend to him? What did I do wrong? We went to all the parties together, he spent time with his friends all the time, what more did he want? Not until I saw him a few days later, making out with all the other girls, I understood what kind of independency he needed.
All this time I believed there was something wrong with me, that I was the reason my heart was broken into a million pieces. When in reality, my only fault was thinking that the bad boy could become the perfect boyfriend.
I wish I had met you ten years later when you were done living your crazy life. We were meant to be.
photo:weheartit
