I didn't know it the moment you walked into my life. Not even when we started going out or talking about our exes or life or our plans after college graduation. No, I never thought of you as my first love.

To me, you were my love. That was enough. You were the only person who knew me to the core. You happily opened your arms to me—my strengths, my flaws, every cell that made me who and what I am. You were the only person who would listen to me talk and talk for hours without being judgmental about my favorite TV shows, my celebrity crushes, the places I want to go to someday. You were the only person who would be brave enough to challenge my arguments and opinions and I didn't mind because at the end of the day, I knew those didn't really matter.

But I knew and was sure that you were my first love the moment you decided to make your exit out of my heart, out of my life. Because the moment you finally said goodbye, I knew I wouldn't be able to get over you. I would be fine, yes. I would be okay, yes. I would even get to move on with my life, yes. But whenever I got home after a long day in college, thoughts of you and of us never stopped haunting me.

I knew you were my first love because I always find myself comparing the next guy to you. He doesn't have ambition, just like you. He doesn't get me the way you do. He's scared to disagree with me because of his fear we might break up. Our silences are awkward and weird, unlike the silences I had with you.

You're my first love because I can always feel the pulse of how much I care and love you. I always find myself thinking if you've already gotten home safe, or if you've already eaten your lunch. You're my first love because I don't cry at the thought of you, but I always, always find my way back to you—thinking about what if I fought for you, begged for you to stay, a million what ifs that wouldn't even be occupying my mind if I realized when I still had you that you're my first love.

I'm sure you're my first love because I know one's first love isn't the first person you love or the first person who breaks your heart, not even the first person you were in a relationship with. Your first love is the first person who leaves a mark on your heart—a mark so deep that its life reaches the tips of your fingers and toes, a mark so deep that it transcends time and becomes your ruler for anyone who crosses paths with you even years after your first love said goodbye.