the first heartbreak

First, I heard the vibration. Next, I flipped my phone over. Then was the text I was dreading to read.

My phone fell along with my knees as they both dropped to the floor. And finally my tears. I laid there on the ground in my friend's living room crying in agony. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. The text was from my boyfriend. The message said:
“I don’t love you anymore.”

Photo by Belinda Fewings on Unsplash

I was at my friend's house the whole day leading up to this. I needed something, someone, anything, to distract myself from the inevitable. We were having a rough few days. He was growing distant and I kept trying to get him to talk to me so we can talk it out. There was something about that day that I knew was not going to end well and so I needed the support. Sophie is the one that saw me in shambles. Who helped me up. Who got me on my two feet again.

I decided I no longer wanted to text and instead meet up with him at the park to have a proper conversation, even after this. My 16-year-old self wanted closure and more importantly an explanation.

We met up to meet at the park close to Sophie’s house, knowing I needed my support system close by. When I saw him, he looked guilty, but he didn’t look sad. He didn’t look sorry for what he’d done. I asked for an explanation and nothing he said satisfied me.

As he was walking away I let it out and I let it out at him. I was yelling down the street as he was walking away. That’s when he started to cry. You see he heard the hurt in my voice, the anger formed as fists, and the pain in my eyes, that this is what he did to me. I’ll never forget it. I’ll never forget what I had did and I don’t think he’ll ever forget how seeing that pain made him feel. I never felt so vulnerable, so stupid, so regretful, for allowing myself to be in love. For allowing myself to get so angry at someone. I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t help it.

Because it was my first heartbreak.

About 1 year later, word started to spread that he was gay. He never told me. I thought to myself that if that was the reason he broke up with me then I would understand. To this day, I’ll never know. But man, that shit hurt.

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A 20-something who stutters and trying to figure out how to deal with it on top of adulting shenanigans and discovery