Page 2 of Lost in the Current of You

They say people's first loves aren’t meant to last forever. They say it's meant to teach us about love, what we want, and what we don’t want in our next love. But I didn’t want to believe that. I wanted so badly to be the small percentage of people who ended up with their first loves. I wanted to see if I was invincible enough to live and tell the tale. But unfortunately, I wasn’t strong enough.

“So, shall we start from the beginning? Who was he?”

Everything. He was absolutely everything and nothing all at once.

To the one who hurt me,

I used to dream of happy ever after. Dream of the perfect ending with the perfect guy and the perfect life. But it always felt so out of reach when my life felt far from perfect. When I had all this pressure to be that perfect someone.

But you came along and that dream seemed a little less impossible. I danced through the haze and got lost in the green of your eyes and every heart-melting smile you gave me. Everything seemed clearer in the fog you created. In the world you kept me in. In the dreams we shared and the secrets whispered in each other's ears. I almost forgot that none of it was real.

We were living in a burning house from the start, and you did a damn good job at throwing a blanket over us to hide it. But just as good as you hid, you ripped it all away at the first sign of life, of everything that could have been. You left me to burn alone with your ghost, reminding me yet again, that this wasn't real.

You made it so easy to forget all of it had an expiration date when you made promises you couldn’t keep. That maybe you had changed your mind and I could keep you in my heart where you so easily wedged yourself. And I hate myself for it.

But mostly, I hate you.

I hate you so much that I don’t hate you at all. Three simple, but so very complex, words stuck in my throat the last time I saw you. In the fairyland we had lived in, I had thought you felt the same and I had waited for you to say it so I didn’t seem like a fool. I hate you so much that I have to thank you for saving me from the embarrassment of realising you never felt the same.

It was so easy for you to say goodbye. All the little dates and sleepless nights spent in my bed. The sweet words and secret touches, gone within a blink of an eye. All that's left is the crumbling mess you left behind. The tears that stream down my face reflect the things that have gone to waste, and I don't know where to go from here.

Maybe a final goodbye will heal the broken lump of muscle I thought had been broken long before you.

So, here's my goodbye. Goodbye to the person I thought you were and our picture-perfect days we had together. Goodbye to the tears I shed for you when I could only talk to your ghost. Goodbye to waking up next to you as the morning light hit your face, making your hair look golden, and your eyes appear as green as the crisp grass in spring. Goodbye to the jarring silence you gave me when you refused to give me the answer I desperately needed.

And most of all, goodbye to my love for you. Through the time – and the distance – may that all disappear.

Dakota Summers.

1

SIX YEARS EARLIER

Walking out of that old brick building, my high school graduate certificate in hand, I held tight to the fears of my unsure future, masking it with the hopes and excitement that matched everyone around me.

By at least fifteen, we were expected to know what we wanted to do with our lives. That we had our dreams set in stone and started taking the steps to achieve them. That we’d follow through on those dreams with the subject we took in school, either getting into university or building our interest in the path we wanted to take, and see if it was really made for us. But I was no closer to figuring that out than I was three years ago, despite our teachers telling us to start thinking about it for class selections during year eleven and twelve electives.

Emotions were high, yet I felt stuck on pause while everyone kept spinning around me. It was overwhelming, the feeling of having the safety net ripped from under us, to be told to learn how to fly or fall face-first on the ground. That we are to dust ourselves off, time and time again until we get it right. I couldn’t help but think I wouldn’t ever get it right.

A strong pair of hands grasped my shoulders and shook me out of the spiral I was heading down, literally. Bright, blue eyes appeared in my sight with a megawatt smile on his face and his long, blond hair sticking to the sides of his face as sweat trickled down.

“Smile, ‘Koda. It’s finally over,” he said with another shake of my shoulders.

Alex had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. I couldn’t say how exactly we became friends. When we first met at six years old, we ran head-first into each other on the playground and declared that we hated each other. But, I would say that Avery, my other best friend, had a hand in us becoming friends with her authoritative yet friendly approach. Even at that age, she had been bossy and an absolute spitfire.

The two of them were like the devil and the angel on my shoulder, the mischievous one and the responsible one.

Avery was more like the mum of the group, always taking care of us in our times of need and scolding us for the stupid things we did. She made sure that we had everything we needed in the days leading up to our departure. She was our protector, our saviour, the one we counted on the most. It was like it was ingrained in her being to care. She kept us in line but could sometimes find it in herself – with some peer pressure from us – to let her hair down every once in a while after she had three or so drinks in her. When she does let loose, that responsible, put-together person would be nowhere to be seen. She knew how to party.

And I couldn’t wait to see that side of her more during that coming week away in Airlie Beach for schoolies.

It was an event put together for high school graduates to celebrate the end of their schooling, practically, by getting shit-faced all week while at the beach and partying to DJs sets. The Gold Coast was the main event that seemed to always get out of hand.

We had lived near the Gold Coast all our lives, so we’d been there many times before. We decided a change of scenery was what we needed, so we booked our week in Airlie Beach.

Avery pushed through the group of people next to us, smiling as she reached us. “There you guys are. There’s way too many people here.” She frowned as she looked around the field, all the families and recent graduates littered around in groups, taking photos.

“Come on,” Alex coaxed. “Everyone’s probably looking for us.”

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