Forever or Never

When I was 11, this boy moved in across the street. I was in my house the first time I was him, I was in my house. I don't remember what I was doing, but I remember thinking he was very cute. He had brown hair that hung down into his eyes, that sort of typical 12-year-old boy kind of hair. It was almost winter, so he was wearing this puffy blue coat. I remember a lot of minute details from our time together.

Then one day, as we were leaving our house to go somewhere, I asked my cousin to go ask him his name, because I was too nervous to ask myself. His name was Aaron. I sat on this information for a few days. But then he was outside one day, bouncing around a ball. He seemed to lose it, and then he went inside.

The next day, my parents had gone out, and he was outside again, this time picking up leaves. I got up the nerve, and went out there, too. I sat by a tree for a bit, but then I looked down by the curb and saw his ball sitting there. So, I picked it up, and threw it over to him.

This was the beginning of something that would hold onto my heart for more than seven years.

We spent a lot of time together. My father was a creepy kind of protective when it came to boys, so I had to fight with him just to be able to see Aaron. At this time, I didn't have romantic feelings for him. He was just my friend, and I wanted to hang out with him.

But then one day we were playing truth or dare, the most tame round of it I have ever played since, and he told me he liked me. He asked for a kiss, and I kissed him. Still to this day, that was probably the bravest I've ever been with a boy.

Things were good, for a while. We spent time together. We were kids, so it didn't get more physical than that day we kissed, and a few times we held hands. It was sweet.

But then, one day he told me he was moving away. I couldn't believe it. It had honestly never occurred to me that we would ever not be what we were then. But, we said goodbye. We hugged, I gave him my phone number, and he said he'd call me.

But he left. And he did not call. It was only after he was gone did I realise I actually loved him. A year or two later, I fell into a deep depression, and I'm sure a good part of it was due to losing him.

We wouldn't speak again for three years. But I loved him, and I didn't stop looking for him. We connected online, but by this time he'd moved to the other side of the country.

This didn't matter to me. I thought my love, our love, would be strong enough to overcome any distance. I was wrong.

Not only had we grown and changed as people, but he didn't feel as strongly about me as I did about him. He said he loved me, he said it first actually, but it never felt as raw and overpowering as my love for him did.

My love for him was magical, and I felt sparks for him. But his love for me felt dull and rehearsed and old. I should have left it then, but I did not. How could I? I had spent the last three years with a fire for him that would't die. I had him now, and I wasn't going to let him go without a fight.

That was, until I saw him posting pictures online of him and some girl. It hurt, but I can't say I was surprised. To him, a relationship was all about the physicality. I, however, had not gotten to that place in life. I thought it was a negative that we couldn't be physical, but we'd make it on emotion.

I've always been a romantic.

I stopped talking to him. But less than a year later he was single and I was back in his messages.

I know people say if he wants to talk to you he will. But absolutely none of our conversations were started by him. I saw this, I knew it was a red flag, but I continued on. It went like this at least four times.

I eventually did have enough. I can't spend any more time chasing someone when they don't consider me a priority. I can't say that I love him anymore.

There have been times I've almost given in. But I'm holding strong. I won't be sucked in again.