No need to reply or anything - I need to let this out, once and for all. Somewhere. I never forgot about my first love. In a traumatic sense. We were young and both stupid with each other. I learned and grown since then, but I think about how she never got to see this improved, happier version of me. The kid who finally chased his dreams. She didn't believe I'd be successful, and what not. I took that personally at the time, of course, and used that to prove her wrong. I, eventually, proved myself wrong too. She left me for many others. I stayed single for most of those years to heal, to be better as a person. To be content in being alone and independent here. The reason why I'm writing this, it's the dreams. I had a dream of us, once again. And I'm fucking tired of it. She left me behind to hurt. I look back, maybe I did deserve it, but I didn't know any better. I knew nothing about love. Now, that I do, I wish this person knew me. She never knew me. I think that's what keeps haunting my mind about her. No one actually took the time to know me in any of my relationships.