Hard To Say Hello

Everyone knows that it’s difficult when something ends. That’s why goodbyes are hard, no matter who it is. But the thing that no one talks about is that beginnings can often be just as hard. For example, beginning to live a different life after an aforementioned goodbye. Or beginning whatever it was that lead you to say “hello” before that impending goodbye. Does any of this make sense? Probably not.

When I was in sixth grade, there was a beautiful boy who ate lunch at the table across from mine. He always had a half grin on his face that made it seem like he knew something everyone else didn’t. I wanted to be the one he would divulge this secret to, a secret for just the two of us.

I didn’t speak one word to him until four years later.

How do you get the courage to simply start a conversation with someone you’ve admired for the better part of your adolescence? I was crushed under the weight of years worth of things I wanted to say to him, an endless list of questions I was dying to know the answers to. The worst part was that I knew nearly nothing about this boy, yet my own fascination and delusion made me believe that it didn’t matter. Of course I would love everything about him. He was so bright and shiny, but I didn’t realize that when you’re bathing in the light of someone, you don’t see the shadows looming behind them.

Then one day, the boy with eyes the color of sea glass and hair the color of an oil spill somehow knew who I was. I stood alone in a classroom, scanning the hallway outside, when my eyes met his. He lifted the corners of his mouth into that grin and raised a hand to wave at me. My breath faltered and I could feel the red rising to my cheeks. I tried to give the least distressed smile I could and sheepishly raised a hand back toward him. I had to turn away before his gaze turned me to dust.

Fast forward a month or so and we’re on my couch. His lips tasted like desire and the gum he was chewing moments before. I had never kissed anyone like this. I had never kissed anyone at all. I smiled into his lips at the culmination of years of pining. The beautiful boy from across the cafeteria was nearly burning a hole through me just with the touch of his fingers on my skin. It was all so innocent, but feeling his hands on my waist was the sexiest thing I could imagine.

Fast forward a month or so and he was very publicly dating another girl. I was very privately devastated.

They say the first love is the hardest to get over because that’s the only time you fully give everything you have to someone. After that, you learn to keep a piece or two for yourself. They always keep a part of you that you gave them, a part you’ll never get back. I suppose that’s why there’s always a small feeling of emptiness when you think about them. Regret tastes sour where their kisses were once sweet, reminders of them feel like a stab rather than a warm hug. They also say nothing in this life is free, so I suppose all these things are just the price we pay for that feeling when you see them smile, even after everything that’s happened.