At 24, I fell in love for the first time in my life. I gave him everything my heart had ever longed to give to someone in a deep, real, and special way. In regards to love, it was the first time I felt what putting someone’s happiness before your own has meant. I’ve never taken love lightly; I was patiently waiting until I felt my heart was ready to love selflessly. He was my first kiss too. Yes, my first kiss was at age 24. I was waiting to give it to the person who made me certain I’d be walking down an aisle to him one day. I could easily regret many things from my time with him, but I’m not. I would rather love as strong as I did than to not have loved at all. My heart was just being brave. Before we broke up, I wrestled with hurt, broken feelings for a week trying to bear my reality until I realized—there was a reason my heart wasn’t trying to bear it. The pain was too deep, and somethings just aren’t recoverable. I remember the pivotal moment when I knew I had to let go; I couldn’t grip anything hard enough. The collapse of my heart was immense and it felt like angels would never stop cleaning up the rubble.