They always say that you should only love someone who loves you 10 percent more than you do, but life isn’t always that simple. In fact, I think that I love him over 1 million times more than he loves me, but that’s alright. Let me tell you about my painful first love. A love called Park Chanyeol.

My life had pretty much . I had always been a bit of a loner, with only two friends in junior and middle school. High school was a bore. Puberty made me even more shy and I found it extremely difficult to show my true self, containing the fun and cheerful boy under a quiet and plain shell. It had been so long since I had smiled. I was too embarrassed and scared that people would judge me and my weird quirks.

On one normal day I stared blankly at the white board full of random letters and numbers when suddenly a ball of paper hit me on the head, waking me up from my daze. I looked around, confused, and my eyes fell on an awkward beansprout of a boy wearing glasses, trying to suppress his laugh by covering his mouth with his arms on his desk, looking at me with one crescent-shaped eye. I smiled a small smile that didn’t reach my eyes, not knowing what to expect, and opened the note. “you’re squishy, and cute”

I frowned, but then chuckled to myself, my facial muscles tightening into a smile, a feeling that I hadn't felt in too long a time. What a weird guy. I wrote my own note and threw it back to him. He caught it and opened it quickly, smiling from eye to eye when he did. “you’re a dork ” We both made eye contact and inwardly laughed, making disturbing snorting sounds. We immediately got scolded by the teacher but neither of us cared. It was wonderful.

Before I even realized what was happening, a few notes with random comments turned into frequent conversations and we became best friends. He was someone who was always smiling and made me feel alive, and me? I was just plain, boring me. I always felt a little bit underserving of his warmth and friendship, but he always made me feel wanted, something which I craved.

While watching a movie one day, he took my hand in his and looked me straight in the eyes and told me that he had something important to say. Something like this was not uncommon between us, him constantly initiating skin-ship, giving me little back hugs and playful pinches on the cheeks. In a normal friendship between boys it would be a bit strange, but something about us was different. Special.

 I replied jokingly, asking if he was going to propose and he blushed. I thought it was adorable. His next words surprised me though. He claimed that he had always liked me, ever since the orientation in the beginning of high school. He said he was sorry if I felt grossed out by it but he just wanted to tell me how special I was to him. The most incredible feeling spread across my chest. I did not feel disgusted at all, but instead felt incredibly happy. On a whim, I leant in and kissed him on the lips, without saying anything. We both blushed and smiled, acknowledging our  mutual feelings, and spent the rest of the evening holding hands, no words between us, enjoying each other’s presence.

What started out as a few innocent kisses and touches gradually turned more passionate and desire-filled, creating bonds that connected us more deeply than we ever could have imagined. We dated for a total of four years and we were so happy. I never doubted his love for me and he never did mine. On our fourth year together, he proposed to me. I cried tears of joy and said yes, and he picked me up and swirled me around while in his arms, laughing and telling me how I was the best thing that had ever happened in his life. And I truly believed his words…

Its amazing how fast things change. You notice the small things first, the once warm embrace suddenly feels cold, the way the smile no longer quite reaches his eyes like the boy I met in highschool. And then the late nights and disappearances, the unfamiliar smells on his clothes and the guilty looks whenever we kiss. I knew something had changed between us, but I refused to acknowledge it, I didn’t want us to end.

It was hard. It was hard being the only one wanting to keep us alive. It was hard waking up in the morning with his back facing me, only to move further away when I tried to snuggle closer. It was hard being in love with someone who had clearly stopped loving me long ago. And when the day that I had been expecting finally came, I just smiled and nodded, because there was no one to blame. We have to let go. We have to accept that they will never look at us like they used to  again, that there is someone else who has replaced us. We have to accept it because otherwise we become the weak one, the one who clings and stops them from living their life. I loved him too much, yet I never wanted to be a burden, which I had clearly become. We have to wish them happiness, because that is what I truly wanted for him, even if I was no longer the source of it.

Months pass, tears dry, the white band of skin on your finger fades and and you feel like you are finally better. You forget the feeling of his touch, his face becomes a blur and eventually you forget that he ever happened. But then you see the two of them, the same sparkle in his eyes that was once directed at you, that sparkle that was in a high school boy’s eyes as he threw a note at a lonely classmate. And you realize that there will never be another half to complete you, because he is the one for you, the only one, even if you aren’t the one for him.

But we accept it because that’s just what we are expected to do.

We convince ourselves that we are okay.

And try to pick up the pieces of our hearts so that we can give them to someone else instead, even if they can never make you whole.

But it’s okay,

that’s love.