Sometimes, when you meet someone, you know they're going to be important to you. You feel as if the ground has shifted beneath your feet, as if the stars have aligned at last for a fated encounter to take place. You look into their eyes and see what you can only assume to be destiny. And years later, when you look back on that moment, you can recall every last detail, down to the tiniest strand of hair out of place.

That moment, for me, was meeting you.

I doubt you'll ever read this. That's fine, I think. We've long since parted ways, so I don't expect you to keep tabs on me. Why, then, am I writing this? Perhaps it's a sort of catharsis. I've held these words within me for so long that I fear I'll burst if I don't get them off my chest. This isn't a goodbye; we've done that already. This is an homage to what we once were, as well as an acknowledgement of what you will always be to me.

The day we first crossed paths is etched into my memory like a poem I memorized in high school. It's not ever-present, but in the times I least expect it, it returns in flashes. Sunlight shining through the doorway as you step through it, freckled cheeks akin to paint splatters on a canvas, a smile warm enough to melt icecaps. You were effervescent. Then you looked at me, and I felt seen for the first time in my life. So many had looked at me, but never had anyone seen me the way you did.

Was that my mistake? Loving you from the moment I laid eyes on you? No, love was too strong of a word for what I felt back then. Love came later, in the quiet pockets of time we shared. It came in the form of telling stories of our home lives and running breathlessly through corridors and laughing so hard milk shot out of our noses. I loved the you I got to know over time, the you who danced beneath streetlights without a care in the world.

You were the first person I ever loved. I loved you before I knew what love was.

That was why it hurt all the more when I was forced to come to terms with the fact that my feelings were unrequited. I was left to orbit around you, and I didn't even mind. As long as I could bask in your light for a little while longer, I was content with being your friend. That, I felt, was what mattered most.

We haven't spoken much since graduation. Our paths diverged from that stage, and once we went our separate ways, things were never the same. We were a firework, I realized. Big and bright and dazzling, but just as soon as it had illuminated the night sky, gone. Nothing but fizzling particles falling from the night sky. That might have been for the best. If we were still together, supernovas in the darkness, I would likely still be as smitten with you as ever. Now I've grown. Moved on, as it were.

That doesn't mean you have been forgotten. I don't know if I could ever forget you. Every so often I see your face when I close my eyes, hear your laughter in my dreams. I'm not in love with you anymore, I don't think I have been for a while. Yet you remain with me, a specter, reminding me that I have loved once and can love again. You were my first love. That much will never change. So thank you. Thank you for teaching me what love is. Wherever you are now, I hope you find it. Love. You deserve all of the love the world has to offer.

Like the tide, my feelings for you rose and fell, but the sands of my heart will forever be eroded by you.

I wish you the best in life and in love, and I can only hope you wish the same for me.