He wasn't my first love, but I loved him still. Maybe not as much as I had loved others, but I loved him. And I still do. However I cannot be with him, 'cause I know that he deserves so much better than me.
The first time we met was at a bar, I was sad, drunk and lonely and he asked me if I wanted a cigarette. I barely nodded but he lit it and gave it to me, I breathed in the smoke deeply. Felt how my lungs embraced it, woho, lungcancer, I was going to die of something, so why not this? He asked me what was wrong and I gave him a look that sad "Don't ask." and he turned away, blushing and apologizing for being to front forward. I sighed and started to tell him what was on my mind. About the boy that broke my heart, about the eating disorders, about the suicide attempts. And during the time I spoke, I started to cry and he just took my hand and pressed it gently, and I was surprised that I didn't mind it. The night finished with him carrying me home, putting me to bed, but he didn't take advantage of me. The next morning I woke up and saw him in the armachair next to my bed, asleep. He'd stayed there all night, watching over me.
It was the first time a boy actually cared for me, and I gave in completely. I ignored that I didn't feel any chemistry with him, I let him believe I was inlove with him, not only saw him as a friend. And then one day, two years later, he asked me to marry him. I broke down in tears. I told him the truth. That I only loved him as a friend, and that he should be with someone who loved him as a lover. He told me it was all right, that he didn't want anyone else and that I could see him as a friend if I wanted too. After those words, I let him hug me, kiss me, make love to me, but the next morning I knew that it was wrong. He deserves so much better than me, he deserves someone that's not as fucked up as I am. He deserves real, true love. Not this. Not me.
- J.
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