Falling,

I can honestly say I have fallen in love only once in my life.

I was seventeen and a senior in HS. Beyond shy, naive, and eminently innocent. If I said that I had a lot of friends back then, I would be lying. I always felt awkward in high school, only keeping close to both my best friends. He, on the other hand, was everybody's friend and everyone knew him. He was funny and charming and easily loved by all. This boy with his air of presence could simply leave an impression on anyone that knew him and when he walked into a room, you would know. He always had this certain boyish charm about him passing by me in the hallway with his million dollar smile, giving daps to boys and hugs to girls. His presence had me school girl blushin' and I just couldn't figure it out. I took in his voice, his smile, his laugh, his cheesy jokes, his everything and locked it deep down inside my heart. He was endlessly charming and wonderful. I was hopelessly awkward and un-impressionable. I had always came to the conclusion: he would probably never approach me, talk to me, let alone notice me.

I never would've guessed he would one day, even for a second, see me the way I saw him. After all, I was a fool who believed I was never good enough, who believed I had nothing to offer this guy who was loved by everyone. In the end, I would never have guessed he would be the first boy to hold my hand, kiss me, rock me to sleep, tell me sweet nothings, and ultimately leave me with this unwanted emptiness in the pit of my stomach. From the first moment he made small talk, gave me a friendly hug in the halls, stole my number from his friend, called me that first night...the rest was history. After the hours-long phone conversations every night, that first lunch date where he interwined my fingers with his, and ended it with a kiss on my forehead, I wore my heart on my sleeve. For him. Because I wanted him and I wanted this unexplainable feeling to stay for as long as it possibly could. It was wonderful. It was magical. It was indescribable. A blessing. And I loved this boy. This boy everyone loved, this boy with the brown eyes who could make my knees weak with just one touch, one laugh, one look. I made him my world and maybe that was where I went wrong. But I didn't care. I gave myself to him for the taking just because he could. He had control over my emotions, thoughts, body. He had control over me. I poured out my most inner feelings, my underlying secrets, my fears and darkest insecurities because I wanted him to know me best. To see the real me and love me for it.

When he slowly drifted away from me, it felt like my world was leaving me. Like I was undeserving of his love and I was the girl he did not want any longer. I loved him, but he wasn't sure if he loved me. And it was painful. Like experiencing a wonderful world you never knew existed and then having it ripped from you. It broke me down like falling when all I wanted was flying. The person who had been there all along was suddenly gone with no desire to return. And in the end, I was the one who was left shattered with only memories, tears, and a forgotten feeling of happiness.

Although love left me crying myself to sleep for nights, refused to let me trust for years, left me fragile; I feel happy. I feel grown. I feel healed. I loved so hard, I feel blessed. I feel like a different woman.