The funny thing about your first love and your first heartbreak--it doesn't become funny until several years have passed...along with several other heartbreaks.
I was fifteen when I fell in love for the first time. I was young, he was young. I was a smart student, he was smarter. I thought I was very rational and levelheaded, while he was impulsive and idealistic. I was so in love with him, that it was okay that he was so in love with someone else.
I was stupid.
He was a bully.
"I don't know why she's not answering my calls," he texted me one night after I asked him several times why his replies were so far in between. "I keep calling her and everything goes straight to voicemail."
"Maybe she's still in class," I replied. He was always paranoid when his almost-girlfriend wasn't answering his calls. We were both in high school and she was in college--she had a different schedule.
"No. Her class finished two hours ago," he texted back. "She doesn't answer my calls. She doesn't text back..."
"Stop being paranoid."
"I'm not paranoid! Maybe she's with another guy right now! Damn, damn, damn!"
"Stop it. You're crazy."
"Shit--you don't understand! I'm sure she's with that guy again. I'll kill that guy!"
"That" guy was Vanessa's ex-boyfriend. For some reason, Nessa was always hanging out with him. Apparently, one of the reasons was that they belong to the same department and had a lot of classes together. They broke up because he was a manipulating brute with heavy hands. I've never seen Nessa in person, but I've seen pictures of her with bruises that would put a palette to shame.
