Dear [REDACTED],
My first love, well, my first real love. We met young and dumb but grew together and shaped each other into who we are today.
You were the crutch under my arm when my legs wouldn’t work and the one who would skip school just to see me on a cloudy day. Sadly after a good run, we turned on eachother. It was a full war, a whole thorn on our toes that with every step it dug deeper and hurt more.
When they say love is a double edged sword they’re right. While we grew in beauty and love, we ended with bullets and blood.
“We can still be friends” we lied to each other through our gritted teeth. The taste of iron in our mouths from biting our tongues as to not lose our tempers. The problem with lying to you and to myself, is that I actually believed it. After a month or so, I saw you. Small, quiet, lost in your own thoughts. I nearly cried from joy thinking we were still the best of friends. no
Darkness, cold, bitter, tears welling, and a hole in my lungs barely able to breathe.
It was as if you had forgotten about me, about us. I spent a year jumping from man to man begging for the love and bond we had together. All I wanted was what I had again.
As I wallowed in my hole of darkness and depression, I realized I was happy about what happened. I am so grateful I got the experience to enjoy you, learn from you, and use what skills I got from you to help me in life.
Dear Redacted 