The Truth: You Never Stop Loving Your First Love

The Truth: You Never Stop Loving Your First Love

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Your first love is weird. You think it’s going to last forever, but it only lasts in a matter of seconds strung out into elongated moments. And then it ends, just like that. When I was sixteen it seemed simple to me; I was young and naive and I had more faith in romantic indie films and holding hands than you would ever believe.

At a first glance, it seemed infinite. But looking back after these past six years, I can see it for how it really was – and that’s kind of sad. I’m not wise and I’m not old. I’m a 21-year-old college student, but I do know what it’s like to fall in love and still cling onto those moments because there is just too much history to push aside. I can’t do something like that.

Nobody can, even if you are a superhuman or whatever. In the end, we all obtain the same basic emotion, the kind that lingers inside of us and still manages to seep out even in our most vulnerable times.


I’ve been doing this a lot lately. Thinking about love, reminiscing on my previous boyfriends, contemplating the idea about who I’m going to end up with next. I’m content with being where I am right now, and that is living a completely secular lifestyle. But at the same time, I can’t help but wonder . . . and that is because the root cause is lead back to my first love. Oh, first love. I hate you so much sometimes.

I think about you here and there throughout my day, at night, or when I’m awake at two in the morning listening to something that we used to talk about and get excited over. I’m not trying to live in a fantasy, and it’s not as if I haven’t attempted to move on. I have come exceptionally far and I am so proud of myself. In the past year and a half, I’ve gone on dates, I’ve kissed other guys, I’ve gone on new adventures, even turned guys down because I knew I deserved better.

I never rebounded to anyone or anything or looked for comfort in beings materialistically. I just lived my life the way that anyone would after their first love disappeared into thin air. But I guess, the thing is, you didn’t really dissolve into thin air. You merely left with obvious intentions, and with me sitting on my bed staring in complete confusion. And that didn’t matter. You made it clear that you wanted to keep me away, keep us away, and that’s what exactly happened.

When you have a first love, there is no way in getting rid of that. Your first love will be your first love until you die, and that is both a blessing and a curse. I think it’s a blessing because there is some sort of silver lining to claiming a good memory or two – or millions. When you’re comfortable enough, you can be humble about it, have a light laugh and then move on with your day.

But I get really melancholy sometimes because I remember that they have this hold on me. It’s not permanent, but the boy who hurt me a consecutive amount of times, and in the worst ways ever – will be my first love. There is no escaping it and that scares me a little. Even though we are miles apart and we no longer speak, I feel as though he has this claim on me. I can really let go if I want to, and that’s what people say.

However, if you’ve never fallen in love, you won’t understand. It’s not that simple. You can’t just “let go” completely. It’s not just a “somebody” that you mindlessly dated for a few months before you broke up. This was your best friend. This was your deliciously wonderful, powerful romance of all romances. I’m sorry, but nobody can take that away.

Again – a beautiful blessing, and such a cruel curse.






I used to be so hard on myself, and I still am. You’re surrounded by signs, books, the social media, movies, even people – to move on and just live your life without always looking back. Live in the moment, why don’t you? So when it all ended, and my feelings for him still lingered, I would scold myself and after a year, I figured that there must have been something wrong with me. Either I wasn’t trying hard enough to let go, that I was psychotic, or that I was just really really attached and a sensitive human being. While all of those are false except one, it was very normal to feel what I was feeling.

“I don’t understand why I think about him”.
“I don’t understand why I see him almost everywhere in at least one thing each day”.
“I don’t understand why I dream about him. We’ve been broken up for years”.

Those are the things that I would think about, and they would consume me. I just wanted to be happy and move on, and genuinely smile like those young women you would see in those chick flicks after a break up. The part where they, y’know, find themselves’? I knew that in real life, it was going to be harder than that. But I didn’t realize that I would still be dreaming about him in my sleep at age 21, after not communicating for over a year. I feel like such a broken record. I daydream, contemplate, whatever, and the old sepia pictures play in my head- snapping like a camera through all of the good times. I wish that I didn't have such a vivid memory, because the details of it make it that much more consuming. But these days, it's become more tolerable. It has become so consistent that I don't even think of it as a shock anymore - the think about him from time to time. It's become a regular part of my thought process . . . and that's kind of embarrassing to admit. But whatever. I guess I'm starting to come to a point that it's normal to think about someone who was a part of your life for six years and truly made an impact on your teenage and young adult days. I just kept convincing myself that there was something extremely wrong with me, because you sits and pines over someone who hurt you so many times? And who thinks about an ex boyfriend who you haven't communicated with in over a year? And then my friend told me the obvious:

“You never stop loving your first love”.
“I hate this. I don’t like this. What is wrong with me? Why do I keep having dreams though? He probably doesn’t dream about me…”
“Maybe he does. I wouldn’t doubt that he does”.
“Why?”
“Because you’re wonderful and he was lucky to love you”.

And then I went on talking about how he didn’t love me because if you love someone, you don’t give up on them so easily, and so many times for that matter. But either way, it made sense. You really never do stop loving your first – and for me, I naturally love hard. I kind of already knew this, but there is something about having someone say it to you to actually understand it. I loved him. Maybe it’s also because I’ve never had a first love before – obviously – and this was brand new to me. I had the first love, and that was all brand new. And now, now that’s it’s all done, I’m experiencing the part where I have to endure life reminiscing about my first love and question why I think about him all the time. And the times where he was so horrible to me in the mental aspect of things. My family and my best friends saw what kind of pain he put me through, and wondered how he could have been so foolish to do such a thing. Then there was the part where I was foolish into wanting his love so desperately again, through all the times he broke me down. You think "Why do you still love him then?" and I would say back "I just do". There's no way in erasing those genuine moments that were stitched in between those heartbreaking moments of disappointment and anguish. Not everything was horrible, and I can't help but scan back on the times where he told me that he loved me, and that he wanted to get an apartment with me with two dogs, and we watched movies all the time and ate pizza rolls 'til we were bloated, and went to all those high school dances together. I can't just ignore all of that - for me, there was something there. Something strong . . . for me, anyway. You can't escape love. It is what it is. I know none of it makes sense, and it probably doesn't make sense that I'm writing this today. But there's this clarity in it - in a first love.

And then it’s there: You just never stop.




















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To the guy that shot my brother...

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To the guy that shot my brother,

On January 9, 2019 my families entire life changed with one phone call. The phone call that my little brother had been shot in the face, no other details. We didn't need any other details. The woman on the phone who called us in full panic told us where he was so we went, as soon as possible. I don't think it helped that not even 10 min prior I talked to Zach on the phone.. kind of irritated with him, and the ONE TIME I didn't say 'I love you' as we hung up. Could've been the last time we ever spoke.. I remember pulling up to the hospital thinking 'this can't be real' 'it's not our Zach' 'this is just a dream Sarah, WAKE UP' I'd close my eyes really tight just to open them, I was still in the hospital emergency parking lot. I could still hear the ambulance sirens coming. It was all real.

The day our life's changed was definitely a test of faith. A test of how strong we were, as a family. I sat in that waiting room ready to see the damage that has been done to my sweet baby brother. Because at that point we had no idea how lucky he got. That glimpse of seeing Zach will haunt me forever. How helpless I felt in that exact moment frequently wakes me up from these horrific dreams I've been having ever since that day. That is a moment burned into my me and families brain forever.

You always hear about these things in the movies or on the news, a house being shot up, someone shooting another innocent person, not to care if they died on your watch. But we found ourselves on the news.. We have been confined to the hospital since that day. Running on barely any sleep, taking shifts of sleep so we don't make ourselves sick taking care of Zach. Watching him suffer. Undergoing surgeries, to repair the damage you did.

Before I proceed let me tell you a little something about the man you shot.

Zachary Keith Wright. A blonde hair blue eyed boy. Who could potentially be the most annoying human on the planet (possibly coming from his sister). A man who loves his God first, loves his family second. Perfect by no means, but almost perfect to me. A 19 year old who was to graduate high school this month. After graduation he was prepping to leave for Marine boot camp in the summer.. being in the military has been Zach's dream since he could talk. Literally. Running around, playing war with underwear on our heads, and finger guns. Some would say we looked like natural born assassins.. growing up he has been a country boy. Let me tell ya country to the core. He loves this country like he loves his family. He believes in helping people, taking charge in what's right, and never leaving a brother behind. He's lived by that his whole life. Until now....

The day you shot him. The day not only did you change my brothers life, you changed his families life too. The day you almost ripped my brother out of this world... for what? A misunderstanding? Because you've let something take ahold of your life that you can't let go you're willing to kill someone innocent over? Luckily for him, his guardian angels were protecting him in your time of cowardice. There were 3 times that day he should've died, the time you shot him, the time you tried to shoot him again as he stared you directly in the face, (even tho he couldn't talk I know you could read his eyes, and he still intimidated you. That's why you tried to pull the trigger again) and the time he was running out of the house. But he lived. A man who was shot in the face, didn't lay there helpless, didn't scream in agony. That MAN walked to the neighbors to get help. Why? Because he's a MAN, and because he's on this earth for a reason.

It's gonna sound a little strange not only to you, but the audience who is reading this. I must say thank you. Even in this situation, this was the best outcome we could get. He gets to live. He will make a full recovery. He will graduate. And he will go off into the Marines. You united my family together. Closer than ever. Thank you. You tested our faith and brought us closer to our God. Thank you. Because of your moment of weakness, you showed us what prayer could do. Heal anything. Thank you. This was a bump in the road, and a helluva way to kick off our year of 2019. But here we are.. all laying in the hospital. I'm looking around as mom is sleeping in her recliner chair exhasted but still here, Zach his awake playing his xbox all hooked up to machines, fighting to heal and get better. And of course I'm writing this letter to you.

See you in trial,

From the girl whose brother you shot.

'Fight the good fight' - 1 Tim 6:12 🤟🏼💙

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