First Time Love Failure

The first time I fell in love, I didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did. In fact, I didn’t think about failure at all. At that age, love seemed like something pure, unbreakable—an untouchable force that was simply meant to be. Looking back, it’s hard to believe how naïve I was, but at the time, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Her name was Suba, and she was everything I thought I wanted.

I met Suba in my final year of secondary school. We had a few classes together, but it wasn’t until we were paired for a group project that I really noticed her. She was smart, confident, and had this infectious smile that seemed to light up any room she walked into. For someone like me—reserved, a little shy, and not particularly confident—she was everything I wasn’t. And maybe that’s what drew me to her.

At first, it was just casual conversations, talking about our project or schoolwork. But as we spent more time together, those conversations turned into jokes, shared interests, and late-night chats over text. I found myself thinking about her more than I wanted to admit. It wasn’t long before I realised that what I felt wasn’t just friendship—it was something deeper.

I was nervous about telling her how I felt, but I convinced myself that it was the right thing to do. After all, she seemed to enjoy our time together as much as I did. There were moments when I thought she felt the same way—little glances, a lingering smile, the way her laugh echoed in my head long after the joke was over. It felt like the kind of thing you read about in stories, where everything falls into place perfectly.

So, one afternoon after school, I decided to tell her. We were sitting in the library, our books scattered around us, but neither of us was really focused on studying. My heart was pounding, and my hands were clammy, but I knew I had to get the words out before I lost my nerve.

“Suba,” I said, barely able to keep my voice steady. “I… I think I like you. More than just as a friend.”

She looked up from her book, surprised. For a moment, there was a silence that stretched on far too long, and I could feel my confidence slipping away with every passing second.

She didn’t say anything right away, and when she finally did speak, it wasn’t what I had hoped for.

“Oh,” she said softly, her smile fading. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

There was an awkward pause, and I could feel the tension building between us. My heart sank, and I suddenly regretted saying anything at all.

“I’m really flattered,” she continued, her tone kind but distant, “but I don’t feel the same way. I think you’re a great friend, and I love spending time with you, but that’s all it is for me.”

In that moment, everything crashed down around me. I forced a smile and nodded, trying to act like her words didn’t hurt as much as they did. But inside, I felt like my chest had been hollowed out. It wasn’t just the rejection that stung—it was the loss of something I had convinced myself was there, something I had built up in my head as more than it ever was.

We finished our study session that day, but things were never the same after that. The easy conversations and laughter we once shared felt forced, like we were both trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed. Eventually, the distance grew too much, and we stopped hanging out altogether. It wasn’t her fault—she had been honest and kind about the whole thing—but it didn’t make the loss any easier.

For weeks after, I replayed the moment in my head, wondering where I had gone wrong. I questioned everything—was it something I said? Something I did? But the truth was, sometimes feelings just don’t align, no matter how much you want them to.

That was the hardest part of my first love failure—the realisation that love isn’t always reciprocal, that sometimes, no matter how deeply you feel for someone, they may not feel the same way about you. It wasn’t a grand, dramatic heartbreak like in the movies, but it was a quiet, aching disappointment that lingered long after the rejection.

As time passed, I learned to move on, but the experience stayed with me. It was a reminder that love doesn’t always work out the way we hope, and that rejection is a part of life, even when it feels like the world is crashing down around you. The first time I failed in love taught me that vulnerability is both beautiful and terrifying, and that sometimes, despite your best efforts, love isn’t meant to be.

Though it hurt at the time, that first failure shaped how I approached love in the future. It taught me patience, the value of mutual respect, and the importance of knowing when to let go. Even though I didn’t end up with Suba, the experience became a stepping stone to understanding what real love should feel like—balanced, respectful, and shared equally between two people.