Meeting Love for the First Time

I met Love when I was 14 years old in a four-way Skype call on a Saturday night in November 2015.

Love had hair like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo and eyes that followed like the Mona Lisa.

Love was a random boy.

My best friend did not expect us to hit it off.

She did not expect us to leave the Skype call early just so we could stay up all night talking to each other.

Maybe it isn’t her fault after all.

It isn’t her fault that Love and I fell apart.

Love was so fast-paced.

Love loved me from day one, and I loved Love back.

Love and I were intertwined a mere four days later.

There was a problem.

I could not touch Love.

Love was so far away and yet so close to my heart.

I talked to Love every single day for five months.

We were inseparable.

Until we weren’t.

Calls got shorter.

Deceit was a close friend.

Loyalty was lost.

And Love stayed strong.

I betrayed Love time and time again.

Love left.

Each day, I yearned.

I kept Skype installed just to search for Love.

I lost friendships and relationships, just to search for Love.

I broke my own heart and others, just to search for Love.

I stayed in touch with Love, but he isn’t the same.

Love is a familiar face with a different name.

Love’s new name is Lust.

And frankly, that’s all we keep in touch for.

Love is still so far away, and yet still so close to my heart.

I met Lust after breaking Love’s heart for the third or fourth time.

Not a day goes by that I don’t wonder if Love is still there.

Or if Love and I would have ever worked out.

Or if Love and I could still work out, even five years later.

A childhood crush that was so romanticized is now the bane of my existence.

I met Love at the wrong time.

I should have never met Lust.

I should not have had such an experience that no one could relate to.

I sit and write a story

Of meeting my first love

And nobody shall feel the sorrow

Except the boy I called Love and I.