First love carelessness, I suppose it is hard not to be when everything seems so new, so infinite, and so indestructable. We felt as if every breath was a promise of forever, or at least for the next five year (which honestly, at that age, seemed like forever).

We talked circles around each other, trying on things like fantasy and reality, sexuality and insecurity, but the dance, however honest it felt, came nowhere near intimacy. We held back the core of ourselves, curved our bodies in to each other, and shared the last cigarette before fading away into sleep. Perhaps you thought you really knew me. At the time I would have sworn I knew you. But looking back, it seems as if we were actors in some poorly lit indie film.

I was the one who drank too much back then, among other bad habits I kept half-hidden away. You left at all hours of the night, disappeared to who knows where, scribbling forever in your notebooks, and talking to me less and less and less.

And in the midst of us splitting apart we exchanged I do’s. What on earth were we thinking?

For the life of me, I cannot remember who said I love you first, or who said this is the end last. I do know that neither of us ever said I’m sorry, or thank you, or anything to signify that we meant something to each other once. We just fell away, taking with us a dose of damage, and carried on.

Looking back, I still do not completely understand what we were; maybe I never will.

Freshman :: The Verve Pipe