Take Two

I spent almost a year after my last breakup picking up the pieces of myself and trying to piece is back together.
First loves can be the hardest, because it’s the first time you let your inhibitions go and truly allow yourself to love someone else.
You let another person become an enormous part of your life.
You show them your flaws, your fears, your hopes, and your aspirations.
You’ll change together, explore together, and grow together.
You become inexplicable parts of each other’s lives, yet you still haven’t lost that child-like naivety, nor have your learned to be guarded.
Sometimes, they become such a large part of your life that losing them is almost like losing a part of yourself.

I spent months pouring over the broken pieces of my relationship, trying to make sense of the wreckage in front of me and fit it together like pieces of a puzzle.
I wanted to know why it didn’t work and what was wrong with me.
The thought that he was perfect and I was flawed haunted me.
I would sit there examining all the broken pieces, hoping that overanalyzing and over-thinking would somehow help me piece it together.
I now know that some things can never be fixed, and sometimes, people just aren’t meant to be together.

First loves are often romanticized.
They’re supposed to be innocent and child-like; where we enact what we’ve read about and listened to and watched in movies, in our own lives.
Our hearts flutter when we first brush hands.
We walk on air when we get that first kiss.
We leap into the abyss of love and have no notion of fear of the danger that comes with not being caught.

I once read in a book that falling in love is like riding a bike.
The author and his wife saw a couple riding and holding hands.
He commented that it was dangerous.
She replied that “They’re in love, and love is dangerous.”
While there is truth in that sentence, there is also some error.
Because the ride isn’t what hurts, but the crash.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love.
No, falling in love is a wonderful thing.
It’s the falling out of love that’s dangerous.

The crash happening in the middle of the ride is similar to my first love.
It caused an excessive amount of fear and doubt, and resulted in my staying away from even the slightest notion of emotion for anyone.
I was so afraid of getting hurt that I would flee before there was any chance of that.
My only concern was to protect my heart at all costs.
Getting back on the bike the second time is similar to falling for someone the second time.
Really falling.
Knowing all the risks involved, you rid yourself of your fears and just let your gut feeling take over.

My first love is always going to be bittersweet.
And while there is a lot to be said about first loves, there’s something even more beautiful about falling in love again.
Because the second time we fall, we are well aware of the risks attached.
We have our scars as constant reminders of our wounds, and yet we make the conscious decision to fall anyway.
We put aside our incessant fears and qualms, and simply let our hearts take over.

As nostalgic as your first love can make you, I truly don’t even think it can compare to the second.
There is just something absolutely magical about the person who coaxes you out of the shell of protection that you had buried yourself in.
There is something absolutely undeniable about the person who make you feel safe for the first time in so long.
There is something absolutely breath-taking about the way a person can make you believe in love all over again.