My First Heartbreak

I did it with a phone call. I knew it had to be done. I mean, I knew it had to be done for too long by that point, but I had refused to admit it or even acknowledge it because it was easier to pretend than to face the truth.

The phone rang once, just a quick heartbeat, before her voice came through, and a quick hello stopped me in my tracks, hands shaking as I wondered what the hell I was doing. All she had to do was give me a small nudge, prodding gently to know why I had called when I so often cited my hatred of phone calls.

Once I started talking, it was as though I couldn’t stop. I told her all I found wrong with our relationship, reminding her of the many downfalls and setbacks, almost all having to do with the lack of similarities between our two distinct personas. The first time I heard my heart break was when the only response I got was, “Yeah, but what else have I done wrong?”

I guess you can never finish listing someone’s wrongs if they can’t even pretend to understand them, but I felt a certain pain in my chest when I heard those demanding words. As though laying my feelings on the table wasn’t enough, I was also expected to give a never ending list of all her wrongdoings.

I was told early on that my first heartbreak would come from the boy I thought I would marry but was actually just a stepping stone. I never thought my heart could be ripped out and stomped on by the very girl I once called my best friend, the first one I thought of texting or visiting whenever something amazing or something terrible happened. It’s been almost a year and a certain pain sears my heart every time I think of her or any memory that has her dancing in the corners.

I let her transform me into someone I never was, ignoring my sister and pretending to be enthralled by a huge house with a movie theater or a boy who was two years younger than her or losing virginity like losing a penny, without a care.

I forced myself to find love where none existed, and to hope for a better future when the current state of things was already bad enough. I was a little girl wishing on a broken star for a fantasy that had fallen apart too long ago.

 

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