This is a piece of guestwriting by ilashes.
I was what, nine? You would have been hardly older. You were the new girl, the kid who transferred from another school. The maroon skirt had not itself accustomed itself to you. You were tugging on the white shirt, tucked in as per regulations. You looked up, with a brilliant smile on your face.
I would never forget that smile. Even after all these years, that smile remains the one thing I remember the most about you. You never frowned, you never got angry or sad. Always happy, always smiling.
I took you by your hand, showed you around the school. I was so eager to befriend you, knowing how lost you were in this strange world. I treasured every moment with you.
It was the giddy scent of your skin, the wonderfully smooth porcelain complexion. It was every word I had with you. It was your rosy cheeks, your bright, beautiful eyes.
One day, I found myself writing a letter to you, expressing how much I valued our relationship. I do not know what possessed me to write it. But I wanted to do something special, give you something indicative of how much you meant to me.
I put down my pen, and stared at the letter, written in blood-red ink. I did not know why I was writing this. I did not know why I felt like this. I could not have known, not at the tender age of nine. The words on the paper stared back at me – I crumpled it up and tossed it into the dustbin.
Maybe you sensed it... maybe you realized all wasn't right with the way I adored you. Maybe our paths simply diverged. Maybe I distanced myself from you, confused I was by my feelings.
A few days later, you passed me by, with nary a glance in my direction. Watching you walk past with another girl that was just too much. Poison dripped from my tongue, surprising my acquaintance with my antagonism towards you. Her questioning glance made me look away, half-guiltily. How could I explain why I was hurt? I didn't even understand it myself.
I understand fully, now, of course. Every emotion, every childish crushing feeling. I only understood that anger after I fell in love again, with another girl, forcing me to face myself after years of denial.
I still remember your face, you know. I've forgotten the faces of every other playmate I've had at that age. But I remember every single thing about you, down to the distinctive scent of your skin.
It doesn't matter you were never mine. But I thank you, my first love, for opening my eyes to this world. Thank you for making me realize who I am.