And I knew I didn't love you anymore when it was the 29th of November and facebook had to notify me that it was your birthday because for the first time in years, I didn't remember it was your birthday. The date didn't even have significance to me.

I knew I didn't love you anymore when I didn't have the urge to wish you a happy birthday in hopes that you would notice me and maybe fall in love with me too.

I knew I didn't love you anymore when you celebrated a year with your girl, and what was once a pang of jealousy turned into adoration because I thought you guys were cute and complemented each other.

I knew I didn't love you anymore when you got married and I didn't care. I actually wished you the best. And I still do. I enjoy seeing how your lives together have merged and the marriage you both have created is fantastic.

There's a sense of growth I feel from this and it makes me realize that you were never my first love. And if I got the chance to tell 14-year-old me that, I would in a heartbeat. My loves and losses paled in comparison to what was in store for me at eighteen.

My first actual love. The one that loved me back.