In 2006 I met a girl, J, who I fell in love with, and who loved me back. We lived on opposite sides of the country though, and my anxiety was severe at the time. She came to visit, and I was awkward, and shy, and scared, and anxious, and unsure...
We broke up at some point, and slowly stopped talking. No communication for years.
We've been back in touch, and it's great talking to her again. We knew each other inside and out all those years ago, and we can still talk for ages and ages despite how much we've both changed. Talking to her now, it's kinda scary to see how drastic the change is. We're both completely different people, or rather, more amplified versions of ourselves. We're both still kinky, into piercings, into the same kind of lifestyles and really open.
She reminds me of how cloudy life was. How much I couldn't comprehend, and didn't see. How small my world was. I was in high school, and I could barely leave the house because of my anxiety and depression. I remember life with her involved quite vividly, so it's quite amazing to see myself here and now, and to look back on recent memories and sit in stunned silence that it's the same person.
She set the trend for people I would later date, and made me realise my capacity for caring for someone. She gave me a glimpse into the lifestyle I wanted. She gave me the most intimate night of my life so far. My benchmark for others. My realisation that no matter how amazing someone is, they have flaws, and sometimes gaping ones.
If it sounds like I'm still in love with her, I kinda am. You never really get over your first love, right? Not that I'm trying to validate my feelings for her, I've been dealing with them for over half a decade, and I've put them in their place. But every now and then I see a picture of her, or read something of hers, and I'm instantly that awkward teenage boy again, the one obsessed with that person larger than life, wishing he could be half as amazing as them.
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