The friend I mistreated

A long time ago, I had a poor little friend. She came into my life as someone unimportant, as someone who did not matter. Unknowingly to myself, she had become more than a friend to me, someone I would like to spend the rest of my life with.

She was the first one I ever felt any affection for, even the first one I kissed and held. Before she came along, I thought the whole matter dirty, loathsome, and none of my business. I did not realize my affection for what it was, until I felt hurt when she was was beat. I wanted to scream when she did. She was the first being I felt any worry for.

She did not return the affection I had for her. Maybe I was too late in realizing my feelings for her. It did not matter to her if I was around or not, but I do know that she felt more settled and made less trouble if I was with her. That , in itself, was a great victory for me.

She was my first love, transformed from a friend. I was only her second. She never gave up on her first love until the end, but that made me love her even more, for all her loyalty.

I fear I cannot call her a friend, for I will become the biggest hypocrite. Even if I did not personally hurt her, I did not stop others from doing it.

I wanted her to be my first and last, but another has found her way into my life. I can only hope to give as much love as I wanted to give my first.