An Open Letter To The First Girl Who Broke My Heart
Hey babe,
I say ‘babe’ because I know how much you used to hate pet names. That’s a bit petty, isn’t it? A little bit vindictive? It’s also uncalled for, seeing as we haven’t seen each other for years now. Somehow, despite the variety of emotions we would have once had for each other, that little bit of ill-wishing never seems to fade totally. Not that I do wish you ill particularly, but if there’s any remnant emotion left other than placid apathy for the first person who broke my heart, I guess it’s that.
Teenage heartbreak
Before we go on, there are two things I want to address. The first is that I want to provide some clarity over the phrase ‘broke my heart’. We hurt each other, there’s no getting away from that, but we also hurt each other in a teenagers-playing-at-being-adults kind of way. What I mean is, saying you ‘broke my heart’ isn’t really true. At the time, it definitely felt that way but, with a few extra years of experience, I can fairly confidently say that heartbreak is something else entirely.
It’s unfair and false to put this much pressure on that former version of ourselves.
The other is that I just want to make sure there’s no ambiguity about whether I take responsibility for all the horrible things I said and did to you. I do, wholeheartedly. The relationship I have to you now is quite a strange one because, in my head, you occupy a dual position of both the first person who broke my heart, but also the first person who’s heart I broke. The latter of those is sort of a guess based on the things we said to each other after everything fell to pieces for the last time. That’s purely my perception of things but, now that I think about it, I wonder if you do see me that way.
Putting things right
I’ve considered calling you or messaging you to tell you how sorry I am for those cold-hearted things I did to you in my adolescence, particularly the two-faced way I would speak about you to my friends. But of course, if I did do that, it would be a product of my ego’s desire to hear you say you forgive me, and I imagine you don’t even think about it at all any more. In fairness, nor do I normally, but it’s that time of the year when we reflect and try to self-improve. Just know I am truly sorry and, for what it’s worth, I’ve used those experiences to try and be a better person. You were sort of like a first lesson in how to treat women; I’m sorry you had to suffer for me to find out how to be an empathetic and kind person.
Forgiveness
Now that my apology is out of the way, I also want to say that I forgive you too. You may think you have nothing that needs forgiving and that would be totally fair, but experiencing heart-break for the first time was truly difficult. It wasn’t like it is in films or TV shows; there was no defined period where I went from feeling down to being normal again. That low feeling hung around me for a whole month, a chain around my neck that wanted to pull me into the ground. Even the return to normal felt tainted by a new knowledge, a fresh fear of what it’s like to have your ego crushed by someone else. With a bit of perspective this far down the line, I’m grateful that I had those feelings – it was another character-building lesson.
Moving on
We were never meant to be together. We were inherently different. Maybe we’re more similar these days. Who know? Not that any of this matters anymore; it was a long time ago and we’ve both moved on. Or rather I have, and I hope you have too because, if not, that would be troubling. Genuinely, I hope you’re happy now and that you learnt as much from our pre-adult forays in romance (and heartbreak) as I did.
