I woke up early in the morning, unsure why. I recalled my coldness last night, a vague sense of regret washing over me. After some hesitation, I finally sent the text message I had saved on my phone all night. I just wanted to tell her that I didn't blame her, that I would take good care of her in my own way, solely to spare her further emotional exhaustion. Perhaps this approach was too foolish.
I stared blankly at my phone screen for a long time, but the "new message" notification never appeared. Perhaps, at that moment, I should have realized: when fate runs out, it's time to stop.
Unable to help myself, I dialed her number. Hearing her voice, which was once familiar but had quickly become distant, my heart ached inexplicably.
After hanging up, I told another girl that my relationship with her had ended. When she asked why, I could only reply, "I don't know." Although I understood deep down that it was because of him. She had given her first love to him, and thus could not give it to anyone else. One's feelings can only be given once, and they cannot be allowed to be damaged.
All I could do was admire him, even to the point of feeling jealous. He hurt her so deeply, yet she still refused to forget him, still waiting for him to return to her side, just as I am now.
For someone who had never known the taste of heartache, I understood for the first time: love hurts this much, romance hurts this much.
Not knowing how to comfort myself, I slammed a basketball against the rim with all my might. My fragile emotions were shattered bit by bit. I couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears flowing unceasingly. Finally, I collapsed on the court, my mind filled entirely with images of her.
Why did it happen so quickly? What did I do wrong? I didn't want a stream of apologies. If she knew from the start that she could never love anyone else, why did she start this in the first place? Such a tragic mistake.
