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Remembering the First One

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No one ever forgets their first love. I am no exception to this universal law. I can vividly remember the first time I set eyes on the one person that I could guarantee would have my heart for the rest of my life and beyond. I met her at a very young age. She was introduced to my by my older brother. I had heard of her before, but at that age I didn’t have the confidence to talk to her on my own. I was twelve years old when my older brother introduced us. I usually don’t believe in love at first sight, but our meeting was exactly that.

We immediately hit it off. There wasn’t a day that went by where we weren’t seen together. She was my best friend and nothing anybody said or did was going to change that. She was the perfect girl. In my opinion she was flawless from head to toe. Her voice sounded of the most soothing poetry. She had a commanding presence. No one could tell her what to do and how to do it. She did what she wanted, how she wanted, and that’s what was so appealing about her. She always had a confidence about her that was never seen before.

I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. There wasn’t another guy in the world that could say they had a girl better than mine. As we grew together many guys tried to claim her as their own, but none of them had the respect for her that I did. That’s why she never left me for others claiming to be better than me. She unleashed a different person in me. My confidence grew tremendously after the first time I met her. She had made me a better person, and in turn, she was a better person.

Like most romances, there are trials and tribulations that lovers must overcome. We were no different than other relationships. We had our problems just like everyone else. Often my parents didn’t like how much time we were spending together. There were times where my parents tried to steer me away from her, but their attempts didn’t quell the fire that burned inside of me for her. The times where we didn’t speak felt like eons. Many times I felt like we were drifting apart, but I always knew she would come back. And she did. I never shut her out of my life. She meant the most to me and I never wanted to let her go.

Trouble continued to come as we got older. Our high school years were the worst of times. There were times where we would get deeply angry at each other. She was always a free-spirit, and I wanted her all to myself. There were times when I got extremely jealous seeing here interact with other guys. Our relationship came to an end my freshman year and I never felt so alone. She went on to date other losers, and I went on to date other girls. Though I experimented with different kinds of girls, I couldn’t escape the fact that no girl could replace her.

We didn’t talk for a while after our breakup. There were times where we would glance at each other, but our mouths never formed words toward each other. I’m not going to lie. I did miss her, but I have to admit that the time away wasn’t all bad. I met a few girls that sparked my interest and to this day still do. I still am very much in contact with those girls today, but they will never make me feel the way she did.

Things started to get better my senior year of high school. We were back on talking terms. We slowly began to hang out more like we used to as kids. By my freshman year at college we were back to our childhood ways. We were joined at the hip. Once again, nothing could bring us apart. But the unthinkable happened. On December 19, 2006, while I was away, I caught word that she was dead. I couldn’t believe the words that were spoken to me. It wasn’t possible that MY girl was dead. I sat in my room, and reminisced about our times together.

I wasn’t going to let this stop me. I picked up my pen and paper and began writing. At the top of the page I wrote my first love’s name: HIP HOP. I knew that as long as I never gave her up, she would never give me up. To this day people claim that hip hop is dead. I don’t believe that. As long as we have something to say, SHE’LL LIVE FOREVER.





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