A Letter to the First

To you,

I miss you, but I’m not sure if I miss your intellectual presence as much as I miss your physical one. I can get over not texting you every day. I mean, it’s not like we ever talked about much or connected in any way other than our lips. But you were the first boy I felt comfortable with to let kiss me, to let sleep with his head on my lap, and that means something to me. You mean something to me.

Lately, all I can think of is having your hands on me again – I want it so badly it hurts, sometimes. I mean. like I said, you were the first, and even just the warmth of your hand on my leg, your arm wrapped around my waist while you slept, it felt like heaven. Those few instances of your touch weren’t enough for me. I want more – I crave more, and your arms around me is what I miss the most. If this is the very end, too, I never got to cuddle with you or sit on your lap and make out with you. I looked forward to that, you know. I looked forward to sleeping with you, for you being my first of everything.

I know it didn’t seem like it, I know my anxiety masked it all, but I did. Being with you just always felt that good. As soon as your hands were on me, I never wanted them to leave.


I guess another thing I miss about whatever we were becoming was the possibility of it all. We never connected on an emotional level, but how could we, when “we” only lasted a matter of weeks? When I’d think about you before I went to bed, I’d get giddy about what was to come. I was giddy about the possibility of a boy really knowing me and still loving me in the process, and I was giddy about knowing you and loving you just as much.

The energy was right, or at least it was for me. You and I, we’re one in the same: incredibly attractive and incredibly fucked up. I have childhood trauma too, you know. I have trust issues, too. Knowing you could relate, I think, is what made me feel so safe with you. But you had no way of knowing you were safe with me, too. I looked forward to sharing that with you, to telling you the real reason I hadn’t let anyone kiss me until you – not pickiness, not because I have incredibly high standards, not because I’m a prude. It was because I had a hard time trusting that the same boy who kissed me wasn’t going to throw me up against a wall and choke me, too.

You have nothing to be afraid of. That is why you ran without so much as an explanation, isn’t it? That’s my best guess, and you want to know why? Ever since you kissed me, my feelings for you became real, and I knew you were going to hurt me. I wanted to run, too, before you had the chance to. I didn’t think you’d do it this soon, though, so I gave you the benefit of the doubt.

Every morning, you’d text me, and I’d consider throwing my phone away and never looking back. But I responded every time. Because for me, what I felt for you outweighed any sort of fear I had of the future. I guess it wasn’t the same for you.


The only other explanation I have for this is that you lost interest – that somewhere along the line, I suddenly wasn’t enough for you. But, correct me if I’m wrong, that sounds like a load of crap. Everyone is trying to get me to accept it, but I refuse to.

You don’t text someone every day without fail and then suddenly lose enough interest to drop off the face of the planet. You can say that’s the case, and I still won’t believe you because it’s just not plausible. You were pursuing me, you were making future plans. Then you got scared, then terrified, then you left. You ran.

You’d never admit this, so I won’t continue prodding you for an explanation. I won’t even bother you, if that’s what you want. I know from experience that the more you push people to do what they’re afraid of, the more they’ll shy away from it. You just have to wait for them to say “fuck it” and take the chance.

I’ll always be here, physically at least, and I hope you’ll take the chance with me when it comes down to it.

I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.


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