In my sixteen years, I've heard the saying "the truth hurts" more times than I can count. I agree with this statement, for I believe my greatest moment of truth caused me the greatest pain. This is when I realized that my first love was my worst love. Unfortunately, it took a year and a half to become conscious of this. Almost two years of good times and bad times, then finally, the event that led to my realization. .
I must confess the good times were worth remembering. I met him through friends of friends, while hanging out. Soon, we were a couple and no one ever saw us apart. He was really great; he got along with my entire family and spent almost every single moment of his free time with me. We went out for a year and a half and then broke up for such a ridiculous reason that I can't even evoke what it was now. Sadly, it seems so much easier to remember the bad times. The only bad thing, I can call to mind that he did while we were going out, was occasionally tell me that I needed to lose weight or try to change me physically. However, it was after we broke up that he really hurt me. He would say he wanted to work things out and that he would come over, and then would never show up. .
He started dating other girls consequently I started having weekly dates with alcohol. It got worse when I found out he slept with my best friend. I couldn't stop drinking but I hid it so well not my friends or family knew how serious my problem was. I continued this for about a year but permanently stopped after I drank way too much, followed by a plethora of pills. Three days later, I woke up in the Bradley Center, and noticing how my family was distressed, hit me enough to recognize the type of person my ex proving that he didn't care. .
One night, he called and said he was at a party and that he made a big mistake in letting me go and he still loved me and wanted to see me right away. I agreed to meet him at a park thirty minutes later close to where the party was so we could talk.