The difficulty of love is not trying to define it, but trying to understand what it truly is.
When I was in the sixth grade I had my first girlfriend, her name was Alejandra. At our first meeting I had no idea that she liked me; she seemed too good for me. I thought I had no chance to get her to go out with me so I never tried asking her out. One day I learned of the news that made me the happiest preteen in the world: she liked me and wanted to go to the school dance with me.
After plenty of back and forth and communicating through friends, we made a decision; we decided we would speak with one another in orchestra class without any of her annoying friends around.
The first moments we were together, aware of one another’s feelings, felt mind numbing. We both seemed very nervous and quiet. The worst part was the eerie silence that roamed the class. Noticing that she was carrying an instrument case, propelled us to our first conversation together. This conversation kick started the beginning of my first relationship.
The next day we went to the school dance together where we had our first date, dance,and kiss. I felt that we were very happy with each other. I would always walk her to class and spend my recess with her and she would pass by my classes intentionally to say hi. This went on for the next four and a half months. At this point I thought I was feeling love, or at least what I thought love would be like, and I assumed that she felt the same way about me. But unfortunately all good things come to an end, including our relationship.
I still remember the day she broke up with me. It was right after school; I was escortingher to her bus like always, but today felt different. She grew unusually awkward and quiet, similar to the first day we met. Then I saw her wave her friend over to us.
Her friend replied, “No you tell him”. They both giggled nervously.
Then I asked, “Tell me what”?
Once I asked, Alejandra quickly paced away and her snot nosed friend revealed to me, in the most unremorseful way, the end of our relationship. I was crushed.
When I got home I went straight to my room and stayed there for the remainder of the night. The only person I spoke to was my older cousin. He explained to me that what happenedwasn’t anything more than expired puppy love and that I should get over it. I did not understand what he meant by this until I was older; that love is something much stronger than what I experimented as preteen. The love I had for Alejandra proved to be nothing more than lust.
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