Here I am, almost 20 years old and I can truly say that I have experienced a love that some people even twice my age have yet to experience.

As a young girl, who watched, or now that I think about it - binged watched, Disney movies for the sole fact that the love stories were just too damn good and sappy, I thought that "that kind of love" only existed in those stories. The way Prince Charming desperately looked for Cinderella after one night or how Prince Phillip slew [well partially] a dragon for Sleeping Beauty all made love seem unrealistic. These stories, how could they actually be real?

Then, I turned fifteen and entered high school. I stepped into the what I call "first love zone." The place where many find and meet their first love. And that my friends, is exactly what happened.

Flashback about five years from now and I saw him. Let's call him, Jack. He was sitting in a school chair, in a big classroom, better known as the band room. Yes, the band room. He sat in the first row, towards the middle of the room. He had sandy blonde hair, that was a little dull from possibly too much chlorine and eyes as blue as the summer sky. He was everything my little mind thought I needed.

Flash forward a year and I was madly in love, to the point where my head could've spun off at any point. He was everything and more. Those Disney princesses had nothing on me.

He would wait for me outside before school started, in his car, making sure to park in two spots, so I could park next to him. I would feed him his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on our way to swim practice. He would rub my back when I was stressed out in yearbook because the picas weren't working with my desired layout. He would pick me up and twirl me around because he knew it would make me giggle. I would make funny faces at him and steal his fries because I knew it would make him giggle. People say when you're with the love of your life, time slows down. But for me, time raced. It was like I was reaching out for more time.

I was in love. Whole heartedly, painfully, in love. The kind of love that you can physically feel in your chest. The kind of love that leaves your kind burning wherever they touch you. The can't-sleep-can't-breathe-can't-eat kind of love. I lived for the moments between him and I. And I did, until the end of my junior year in high school and the end of his senior year.

Oh, how cheating can quickly twist a fairytale into a nightmare. He watched as my heart broke and I watched as his did too. We cried together, and I wondered how a love so great, a love so rare, could end so terribly? But, little did I know that was only the beginning of a downward spiral.

Soon, we would start to watch each other pick up the pieces of each others' shattered hearts, and one by one put each others' hearts back together. But while doing that, we would misplace pieces. This went on for almost a year until we decided we were going to recreate what we had before, but it was impossible.

At this point, I was too unemotional and he was too emotional. I under compensated and he overcompensated.

Don't get me wrong, when it was good - it was good. And when it was bad - it was bad.

I finished my first semester of college and realized it was time. It was time to cut the cycle. It was time to let go of what seemed to be running on borrowed time. And still to this day, I don't know if it was exactly the right decision. And even though at the time it felt like the right decision, it tore me up. It was like the Earth exploded and was fiercely on fire.

I began feeling like if our love, the love that we decided was the "greatest love of all time," if it didn't work out, how would any other love work out for me? How could I possibly find another love that would even come close to the love we had? How could I? How could he?

After a multitude of explosive arguments, we went through months without talking. We didn't have anything to say. Throughout that summer, we had a few run-ins that left me running to the opposite side of the store before he could turn around to see me.

And then, summer ended and the beginning of my sophomore year of college began. I looked around and realized, this was the first school year without him that I could remember. That didn't sit too well with me and soon enough, I was calling him, hoping that he would answer. And he did.

And when he did, it felt great. It took me back to when everything was great again. He had a girlfriend now, but still loved me, he said. And that's all I needed to know. It took me back once again, to when everything was great.

But, soon after I saw what I had saw before. It would never become what it once was. It hurt once more, then it dawned on me, miraculously. It wasn't the same and that was okay. It was okay that we weren't together. It was okay to leave each other in the past. It was okay that things had changed.

It was hard to realize after so many years of comfortability. But, my first love wasn't going to be the only person I could find love in. He wasn't the only one that would understand me. He wasn't the last to love me. And it was okay.

Although, our love was mid to end, rocky to say the least - it was definitely something you only experience once, with one person. And even though it was that amazing, that emotional, that radiant, something else could be that wonderful, but in different ways. And that's what made me realize that my first love is not my last and there is more love yet to come.