First Love and True Love Essay Example For Students

First Love and True Love Essay Why is â€Å"first love† not considered â€Å"true love? † As a society, we differentiate these two terms into two particular meanings. First love is when you first experience love, often at a young age. True love is when you finally find genuine love with the right person, at the right time. But one question always lingers in my brain. Why can’t these two terms merge into one? Why can’t the first, be the last? It has been almost three weeks since I left him. I’m fine. I’m good. My life has never been better. It’s flooding with blessings and all the good things possible. I say these to myself, and to everyone else who asks about me. Something embedded deep in my brain whispers, what’s with the faà §ade? I have not heard from him since the night it all ended. It’s unreasonable to expect a word from him now, since I was the one who left him hanging, the one who made him wait for nothing. A simple â€Å"hi† would make me happy. I don’t need him to plead for me to return or a cry for help caused by the fact that I’m gone, and I don’t need an â€Å"I miss you. † All I need is a reassurance that he still thinks about me. How selfish, right? I know. I have had my fair share of heartbreaks and disappointments out of relationships that did not make the cut, but this time, I was the one who messed it all up. He begged for me to stay, he was there for me when I needed someone; he was everything anyone could ask for. So why did I do it? Why did I leave the one guy who had treated me the way I felt that I deserved to be treated? Before it all led to this current chaos, it was mellow and calm. It was exciting. It was interesting. I was interested. I chased after him like a child would chase after his mom after thinking he got lost in the supermarket wandering around the aisles, and finally spotting her out of nowhere. I wanted him because he didn’t want me. Or at least I thought he didn’t. I was attracted to the thought that I couldn’t have him, and so I was drawn in. It went on like that for months and months. We talked from dawn to dusk. As time passed, there was hint of chance that he might return the attraction. It was becoming playful, and whenever we would talk I would get this inexplicable rush. Thinking that he did not see me that way, and then getting that gut feeling that maybe he did, was the best part of the whole ride. Then it was stagnant. There was nothing coming out of it. It was just a hint that I was leaning on, and that hint was dying. I decided to stop trying and just leave it as was, since there was no hope. He would never be into me. As I had quit the ride, he then swoops in to pull me back. He asked me what was wrong, why I had suddenly stopped all communication. I didn’t want to let him know what was really on my mind because I didn’t know what was going on in his, but somehow he got a confession out of me. I told him how I felt. How I waited months for him, but got nothing, so I gave up. In return, he also confessed. He felt the same way this whole time. Everything started from there, and we were happy. We were saying the sweetest things to each other, and the rush was better than ever. We couldn’t be more honest with each other, and whenever we had issues, we fixed it. We had set ground rules for each other and we followed it with no hesitation. It was so exhilarating and I waited for our ride to crash and burn. It always did with the others in the past. .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 , .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .postImageUrl , .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 , .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:hover , .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:visited , .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:active { border:0!important; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:active , .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27 .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u2d45c2c862b07f233f6f33273f833c27:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X grew up in di EssayWhat difference did this one make with those? At this age, I don’t expect to settle and find the right person for me to be with for the long run. The crash was inevitable. He kept me satisfied and made me feel complete. Almost as if I was too complete. He was charming, and he said all the right things. All in all, he was perfect; perfect and boring. The feeling of sameness grew in me. There was no challenge, he was not chaotic, and he did not make me feel even the slightest of threats that he might be gone the next day. I know this sounds absolutely twisted. But that is how it felt for me. Everything was clean and I was longing for a mess to tidy up. Eventually he sensed it. He knew something was not right, and he asked me if I was still in the same place as he is. I asked for time to think and he gave it. After a few hours I finally admitted that I was no longer interested. I don’t feel the same as I did 7 months ago when I was the one who needed him and he didn’t need me. It took me many words of explanation in order not to make myself look like the bad guy, but towards the end of it all I still sounded crueler than ever. Two weeks and three days later here I am, in the midst of breaking down into tiny little pieces under my thick covers, memories and the comfort of talking to him haunting me to death. If I was so uninterested and I found it absolutely, mind-numbingly boring, why the hell am I sensing his ghost everywhere? Why do I miss him like I’ve never missed anything else? I have a theory: now that he’s gone and the possibility that he no longer cares and thinks about me hits me right on the spot and it makes me want to beg for him back. Now that he no longer asks me about my day and consoles me when I’m stressed with my homework load, I feel empty. He’s not there, not anymore. He’s not anywhere, but gone. The inevitable has won once again and I had initiated its victory. All along I always believed it would be him who would leave out of boredom, or out of frustration with the relationship. But I guess there’s a first time for everything. We try and try until we hit the jackpot. We know it won’t work out 90% of the time but we go for it anyways. We fool ourselves into thinking, â€Å"Hey, maybe this is it,† when it never really is. Why do we do this? Is it a rule in humanity? Is it just plain stupidity? All in all, I do not regret my decisions. I do not regret having to crush his feelings and even crush my own feelings in the process, for I know deep down if it hadn’t been me, it would be him, or some other cause will pop out of nowhere to break us up. I always believed in the saying, â€Å"There is a reason for everything. † Thus, I will not beat myself up for this. I will no longer sob tears for a useless matter. What’s done is done and I do not intend to look back. When people hear this story, I know I will still seem ruthless. But is it really ruthless to decide not to stay in a relationship that did not satisfy you?