Teenage Hearts

Ezra

Blue—this is the color of the eyes that meet mine when they flutter open for the first time in the morning, and the first thought I always have is that I miss when they were hazel. Blue feels chilled, like the air that will surround me once I get out from underneath the warm protection of my covers. I miss the fuzzy feeling I would get in the morning when I woke up and the first thing I saw were two beautiful, bright golden-green eyes. I miss how they changed with her mood. I miss how they made me fall in love with her over and over again each time I saw them. I don't translate this feeling into missing the actual person who possesses those eyes. Of course, I think about Aria often, more often than I should, but I'm happy now, and hopefully so is she. While I don't wish for things to suddenly change, I do wish things had worked out differently. I'm happy now but I believe that in another life, one that was kinder to us, I'd be happier. It's dangerous to think like this but I can't help but get caught up in it, in dreaming about what our life could have been like. I wish my mind would stop jumping to the thought of Aria as soon as I wake up, because it means that learning to move on and let go is only more difficult. But in a way I'm grateful, because it means that all the thoughts I'm about to have are going to be out of my system by the time the day actually starts. Does everyone who's ever experienced heartbreak go through something like this? Or am I just kidding myself to believe that thinking about someone this much is normal?

"Good morning, babe," Brittany's tired voice says. A strand of her chestnut-colored hair falls on her face and I reach out to tuck it behind her ear.

She stares into my eyes and I stare back into hers. "Morning," I say softly, smiling gently. Her blue eyes are striking yet cold as they connect with mine, and I wonder if I'll ever know what it feels like to see her eyes melt into mine the way Aria's did.

I wish I could go back in time and figure out at exactly what point everything started to go wrong for me and Aria, figure out when two people who loved each other more than anything just weren't right for each other anymore. Maybe that was just the sad inevitability of our story. Maybe we were never meant to be in each other's lives forever; we were just supposed to be teachers of lust and passion so that we could both find paradise with someone new later down the road. We were so naive to think that our strange and miraculous story made us invincible to the natural course of life. That's the hard part about finding love at such a young age; everything is so fragile and can change at any second. Youth lacks consistency, and maybe that's what broke us—ripped us apart little by little until the feelings we once had for each other dwindled away and the sparks burnt out. It wasn't that we fell out of love, but more that the love we did have couldn't adapt quick enough to the constant spins and curveballs life was throwing at us. We couldn't have stopped the distance slowly creeping between us, wedging itself into small spaces and working them until they got bigger and bigger and eventually could no longer be ignored. I don't think any love would be able to survive what we went through in our five years together.

We used to be so in synch. I could read her mind the second I looked at her face and vice versa. I often try to think back to when what she and I wanted for the future became two separate things—when we no longer agreed on the same path. I think that our ending is much sadder than the traditional "I don't love you anymore" kind of break-up. I mean, is there anything worse than not being able to find happiness with the person you love most? We tried to hold on for so long—what exactly was it that made us fall apart? What was the final straw? At what point did we decide that we weren't worth fighting for anymore? Was it when Christmas rolled around and it dawned on us that we had no idea what to get each other; that the people who used to know each other like the back of their hands couldn't figure out the perfect gift? Or was it when we slowly realized that the silences between us were becoming longer and less comfortable; that although we were spending more of our daily life apart we were running out of things to talk about much quicker than before? Or maybe we were still stuck in our young and reckless mindsets. The kind of love we shared isn't supposed to last a lifetime. It's powerful and passionate and it's enough to set the world in flames, but in time those flames are destined to burn out. Maybe if we had been more willing to let go of our youthful passion and spontaneity, and settle for the calmer routines that mature love required we wouldn't be in ruins.