I never thought my first love would haunt me this much. It’s been years now, but the memories of him, of Dante, are still etched in my mind like they happened yesterday. I was 18 when I met him. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. He was older, confident, and somehow, the world just seemed to revolve around him whenever I was near him.

The first time we were together, it felt like a dream. I lost my virginity to him, and while it was special to me, I knew deep down it wasn’t the same for him. He was always distant, always a little out of reach, but somehow, I couldn’t help myself. I fell in love with him, hopelessly, madly, and completely.

For the next three years, we would see each other on and off. Sometimes things felt right, but most of the time, I felt like I was just a placeholder, a side thing. He got into a relationship at one point, and of course, I was still there, waiting for him to come back. He even cheated on his girlfriend with me. It was the strangest feeling—I hated myself for it, but in the back of my mind, I convinced myself that maybe this was his way of showing me that he cared.

When his relationship ended, I thought that maybe it would be our time. Maybe we could finally be together. But then, without warning, he ghosted me. One day, he just disappeared. No explanation, no goodbye. He blocked me on everything, and that was it. I was left in this empty space, questioning what had happened. Was it me? Was it him? Did I mean nothing?

I’ve spent so much time over the years thinking about him, wishing he knew how much I loved him. And then there’s the other part of me that hates him for how he treated me, for stringing me along when he knew he didn’t feel the same. I’ve tried to move on. I’ve dated other people, I’ve tried to let go of the past, but the hold he has on me is something I can’t explain.

And here’s the worst part—I would still go back to him. If he called me tomorrow, if he wanted me again, I’d drop everything in a heartbeat. It’s pathetic, really. I hate how long I’ve let this linger. I hate that after all these years, I’m still stuck on him. And I hate that I haven’t been able to truly move forward.

I think I’ve always known that he was never going to be the person who would love me back the way I wanted. But for some reason, I can’t stop wanting him. And I guess that’s the hardest part—knowing that even though he’s not good for me, I’m still holding on.