It Could Have Been.

It could have been anyone. Your first love could be anyone; the next door neighbour, the brother’s friend, the best friend. In my case, my first love was the classmate. It haunts me sometimes; that haunting version of what could be versus that devastating, cold reality where you long for affection from the one person who sits across from you and feels nothing after 48 hours of feeling everything. It could have been anyone, though, that made me feel that way. And it was my first love, that led to my first heartbreak. So the results would have been the same. There was nothing special about him; his face was as ordinary as his personality which was as ordinary as his ability to crush my 21-year old soul with his 23-year old soul. It meant nothing. It could have been anyone.

It could have been anyone, that caught my eye on some idle Saturday night, with low lights and a Vancouver Canucks win, a cool dry evening in Gastown. It could have been anyone, but as soon as I walked in, I knew it wasn’t just anyone.

It was you.

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