There is a first for every single experience. We document these firsts with pictures, videos, and scrapbooks to file them away, safely ingrained in memory machines. But what about the firsts that sear our souls? That leave us forever broken into pieces that mark the time before and the time after? I hope that one day I can turn these posts into a novel, but for now it is my attempt to close the door on a memory of two kids who found solace in one an other. It is not my intent to tell an entirely true account of what happened. I don't think that is possible. Every story is tinged with a dizzying array of perceptions so thick that it is impossible to see truth. This is a story based on experience, but not rooted in it. It is the story of my first love and my first heartbreak.