Why is “first love” not considered “true love?” As a society, we differentiate these two terms into two particular meanings. First love is when you first experience love, often at a young age. True love is when you finally find genuine love with the right person, at the right time. But one question always lingers in my brain. Why can’t these two terms merge into one? Why can’t the first, be the last? It has been almost three weeks since I left him. I’m fine. I’m good. My life has never been better. It’s flooding with blessings and all the good things possible. I say these to myself, and to everyone else who asks about me. Something embedded deep in my brain whispers, what’s with the façade? I have not heard from him since the night it all ended. It’s unreasonable to expect a word from him now, since I was the one who left him hanging, the one who made him wait for nothing. A simple “hi” would make me happy. I don’t need him to plead for me to return or a cry for help caused by the fact that I’m gone, and I don’t need an “I miss you.” All I need is a reassurance that he still thinks about me. How selfish, right? I know. I have had my fair share of heartbreaks and disappointments out of relationships that did not make the cut, but this time, I was the one who messed it all up. He begged for me to stay, he was there for me when I needed someone; he was everything anyone could ask for. So why did I do it? Why did I leave the one guy who had treated me the way I felt that I deserved to be treated? Before it all led to this current chaos, it was mellow and calm. It was exciting. It was interesting. I was interested. I chased after him like a child would chase after his mom after thinking he got lost in the supermarket wandering around the aisles, and finally spotting her out of nowhere. I wanted him because he didn’t want me. Or at least I thought he didn’t. I was attracted to the thought that I cou