A/N: Something rough I wrote a few weeks ago on the subject of my first love. Some of you may have already read it on my deviantART.

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It's been four years since that first day. I thought you were weird and was slightly frightened by your demeanor. After that retreat, you always referred to me as your wife, that we were a married couple. You would always jokingly ask if I had been cheating on you. I was still a bit nervous at your attitude but I found myself slowly easing up. It became a quiet joy to pass by you in the hallways instead of a harried avoidance.

You're not handsome in the traditional sense, but I've never been attracted to commercial beauty. There's something else, something deeper that I can't explain. Something all those other girls couldn't explain either. Charismatic, charming, out-going, silly but cute; how many can I voice?

At that young age, you were the only real person I could imagine kissing, maybe more... Every day we spent together was simultaneously glorious and achingly painful.

And to find out four years later you never knew. I laughed when you told me that. I thought that I was finished loving you, the first person I ever felt so profoundly for. Of course, every time we would meet I would always smile and remember those times, maybe even hope that you might ever share a sliver of those feelings with me.

My heart is pounding as I write this. I sat beside you that night. Seeing you with another shouldn't have made me jealous, shouldn't have made it feel like my heart was breaking, especially considering I'm with a different guy now. But you were my first love, and I don't think I can forget you, not in the way I would like.

Isn't it strange that I'll always cherish you more than the man I gave my virginity to? Oddly, this doesn't bother me. I love him in a different way than I've loved you. In ways both are equally precious and in others, not. Perhaps I've already accepted that nothing will come to pass between us.

As I'm writing this, I don't feel sad, like I should. I feel warm inside, like I could cry yet they wouldn't be tears of mourning. I think they would be of a tangible and tragic happiness. Does that even make sense? In my twisted mind it does. Those words seem to fit best.

It's all here.

You were my first love.

I will never forget you.

I will never forget the emotions you taught me.

I will never forget how you shaped me, how you helped me continue in my troubled years. You were the reason I got up everyday and tried as hard as I could to go to school when my body rebelled.

I will never forget how you made me cry and how you made me laugh.

I will never forget how you made me smile and laugh. Never.

Decades from now, subconsciously or not, a small piece of my heart will always be reserved for you. I'll love you for what you did for me.

I still love you, even when I shouldn't. I hate using that word. "Love" should not be handed out so easily.

Just to kiss you once, it would be enough.

I love you.

Thank you.