"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

You’re not dead, but rather, the E I knew is now. You were my very first boyfriend. I wasn’t allowed to have one in the first place ’til I already had a stable job yet I took the risk just for you. It’s funny how we teenagers do these typical things.

I am confident enough to say that I am over you, after all, it’s been almost 2 years since we broke up. Whenever I see pictures of you posted by your current girlfriend on social media, my heart doesn’t feel that particular pang of pain anymore.My heart doesn’t constrict at her twitter profile enamored with your name and posts devoted to you. My storybook of a body has left your chapter of fingerprints and hickeys, and my mind has moved on to another person to write about. I don’t even remember how your lips felt anymore.

I guess I’m writing this to say sorry. I realized I never got to say this in real life and only blamed you for almost everything while self-deprecating. You were honestly not that bad. I mean, I would have had dated worse for a first, but then again we weren’t just meant to last and you liked somebody better. I was just second best. I honestly wished you would tell me that secret you said you’d rather take with you to the grave, but I more or less have an idea as to what it was.

I hope you’re truly happy as her pictures showed. You both have left a scar in me but it doesn’t affect me anymore. Thank you for being my first love, for giving me everything you could (at least in the first months), and for teaching me lessons no one else would have.