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We Were 15

Originally Written for an English Class

Photo by Sean Kowal on Unsplash

Everybody has a first heartbreak. Most people experience this in high school or their first year of college. Mine was no different than that.

My first sign should’ve been the way it started. Do you know how people say the best relationships start as friendships? Well, our friendship didn’t start well. It was quite cruel at times. He claimed that we were good friends, and then a day later he would tell me to leave him alone. Of course, I thought, “Oh, that’s just how teenage boys act.”

After being friends for several months we began a relationship. At first, it was terrific. He spoiled me and we talked about everything. Slowly, but surely, the problems started. He began to get jealous over little things. Then he told me that if I didn’t want him to breakup with me, I had to stop being friends with all my guy friends. I was hesitant at first, but of course, I agreed. I was naïve and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. We were 15.

Slowly after that, he started trying to cut me off from my other friends as well. I drew the line when this started happening, and then we’d fight. The final straw was when we went to a Halloween party. We were playing spin the bottle, but the way my friends played it, you don’t kiss anyone unless you’re comfortable with it, and you can kiss them on the cheek. We were innocent. We were 15.

It was my turn. I spun and it landed on my best friend across the room. I kissed her on the cheek and that was that. He got up and threw what he was holding down on the floor and stormed out. Over a kiss. An innocent kiss on the cheek.

Later, I went to check on him and he began giving me a lesson on morals and how what I did was wrong. That’s when I decided I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t handle being told what I could or could not do. I couldn’t handle someone being so over jealous, and I definitely couldn’t handle it for the rest of my life. I mean, we were 15.

I broke up with him the next time I saw him. It was hard, and he didn’t handle it well. He blocked me on everything and told me to die, but he continued to try and text and call to win me back. He was hurt and I knew that.

When he gave me my stuff back, he threw it at me. It hit me hard, but I tried to ignore the pain because I knew he was hurt. It was hard to let go, for both of us. He wanted to try and be friends, but I didn’t because I knew it wouldn’t work. He insisted so I gave in. Of course, it didn’t go as planned. I mean, we were 15.

Four years later and both of us are in relationships with other people. Despite the emotional abuse and constant pain, sometimes I look back and miss it. We were 15, and he was my first love. I’m over it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t look back and remember the good times in the relationship.

For him, I don’t think he’s ever gotten over it. He’s sent me emails of poems he’s written, he likes my social media posts without even following me, and he checks what I’m doing via other people. He’s never tried to reach out, though. I believe I’ve let go, but he’s still learning to.

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