A Letter to The First Boy I Loved

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I don't really know how to start this. "Hi you, how are you doing?" seems to be way too much small talk when someone means as much as you did. Still do, even when it has been so long since I've last seen you, let alone talked to you.

I feel like I've known you all my life.
I know that isn't true and that there has been a time when you weren't part of my life, but if I'm honest I cannot remember it. I've known you for a decade, for all it's worth.

I often reminisce about the first memories I have of you, when we were still so young. I like them because they aren't filled with self loathing and what-ifs like like so many others are.

Truth is, I have loved you for years and never said a word.
And why would I have? You were my best friend and I was afraid, terrified that if I showed you how I felt, you would've never talked to me again. Now we're back to the endless list of what-ifs I keep in my head, huh?

I don't think I've ever truly stopped loving you, not for a day. I know that I've seen other people because I settled for the fact that you'll never know what I feel because I was just so damn scared, even if you had any feelings for me at all. But even when I was with them, my heart was in my throat the second I saw you. You still captured my attention in the same way you've always done.

It isn't fair to all the other people I've seen and will see throughout my life, but I will always compare them to you.
I will measure how their humor lives up to yours, if they make me laugh as loudly and ugly as you managed to do. I will measure the way they look out for me to how you did, how you always noticed when I need you without me saying a word, how you always made sure I got home safe, no matter how inconvenient it was for you.

I feel like I'm being unfair towards you as well because I'm spilling the beans now - even if you'll probably never see this, because how on God's green Earth would you know about my blog? - and I'm just hurling all of this at you like it's your fault.

Nothing about this is. It's not your fault that you're living your life because you're a grown adult and have every right to do so - and I want you to be happy. I truly, truly do.

It's not your fault you went and joined the military. You clearly didn't have to ask for my permission, and yet I still felt deceived because it appeared so easy for you to move on and live while I was stuck in this damn town without any way out.

That didn't stop me from worrying about you. I thought about you nearly every day, even though we hadn't spoken for a long time then. I don't know what would've become of me if anything happened to you.

And now you're back, and I still hardly see you. I think the last time I saw you was months ago, which seems so strange when we used to see each other almost every single day.

I still look for you in crowds, I guess I always will. I thought I'd moved on, but reading through this letter made me realize that I clearly haven't.

It must be true what they say then. That you never truly get over the first person you love. That they'll always have a piece of your heart.
You do. You're imprinted on my heart. I've never stopped dreaming of you, my dreams painting the brightest, most vivid image of you.

I'm sorry I'm such a soppy mess, when really, all you ever wanted to do was make me happy.
And you did. Thank you. For everything you've ever done.
Still, I can't help but wonder what would've become of us if we ever could've had one last dance.

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