The day my first love shattered

I’m going to stand on my own two feet, and I believe I can do it, right, Mom?

Mom! Your daughter was crying again today, and she stayed up the whole night. Life never quite turns out the way we hope, does it? Nobody can ever predict what’s coming, right, Mom? I felt so down, and out of nowhere, you and Dad popped into my head. But I didn't dare call you; I was afraid that if I started talking to you and burst into tears, you'd think my two older sisters had been picking on me.

I forced a smile, then ended up texting my older brother instead to vent a little. I only gave him a vague rundown of how things were, yet he somehow understood and comforted me so much, Mom. I actually laughed out loud at how adorable the way he comforted me was. But my tears refused to listen to me—they just kept falling, Mom. The harder I wiped them away, the more they fell, until it drove me crazy, and I just let them stream down, leaving a sharp, stinging pain right in my chest!

Mom, I’m all grown up now, aren't I? I’m not that little kid anymore with her tomboy haircut, running around terrorizing the neighborhood, spending all day trailing after the boys to fly kites and play marbles—only for you to drag me back home every single time, make me lie down, and ask, "How many strokes this time?" while I’d stammer and sob, "Just one... please make it gentle."

When I reached high school, I learned to look graceful in the traditional áo dài, with my layered hair left just a bit long—pretty cute, right? It wasn't like I didn't turn at least three boys' heads, even though I didn't act like a proper girl at all—talking loud and still causing trouble everywhere. But I really am grown up now, Mom. I'm not so tiny anymore that Mom, Dad, my brother, and my two sisters can shelter me forever.

In the final year of high school, I moved to the city to study, and I grew up so much. It was back then that I first learned what it meant to be in love. I remember it was a day when Saigon had scattered patches of rain, and coincidentally, today—just as everything inside me collapsed—Saigon is "crying" too, Mom.

People always say that first loves are fragile, especially when they blossom back in school days. I didn't believe it. I wanted to prove them wrong all by myself—wasn’t I foolish, Mom? I poured so much affection into him. On the day he confessed, I was so happy I couldn't sleep—not even because I was head-over-heels for him at the time, but simply because he was so quiet, so expressionless, and always picking on me. I was just so completely surprised, Mom. So I said yes, and little by little, I ended up giving him my entire heart. That was how I learned what it meant to love, to miss someone, to try my hardest, to be strong, to persevere, to hold myself back, to cry from the pain, and to realize that "whatever you lift up on your own, you can put down on your own." Standing back up after everything—that proves I'm all grown up now, doesn’t it, Mom?

Heartbroken, I felt like crying enough tears to flood the whole of Saigon. But after losing myself for nearly two hours, I started laughing more, talking more, and suddenly found myself feeling terrifyingly cold and numb. I even told my two sisters I was going to cut my hair—wasn't I silly, Mom? Why would I let a fleeting moment of weakness make me lose who I am? Everyone always says I'm cute, so you know what? I dropped that sudden urge to chop my hair off into a tomboy cut just for a romance that didn't turn out the way I hoped.

People say that when a wound hurts this much, you shouldn't try so hard to act tough and resilient. But sobbing to beg for someone else's pity is just not who I am. Begging someone to stay is even less in my nature. Why should I keep looking back when the eyes Mom gave me were placed right at the front of my face, right? Acting strong and resilient—that was the right thing to do, wasn't it, Mom? I wasn't wrong, was I?

I’m going to try my best, Mom. I want our family and my friends to feel at ease about me—and him, too. I don't want to weigh on his mind, and I don't want him to feel guilty or heartbroken over me. I know I used to wear him out, acting like a burden to him. I must have been so cruel to him, Mom. But what else could I do? I guess I just have to blame it all on those two words: "destiny."

I'll pick myself up and stand on my own again, won't I, Mom? No love lasts forever; only the moments spent together are eternal—not written in the sands of time, but tucked away in the deepest corners of memory whenever I look back... aching and unceasing. I’ll just have to accept that not everyone is meant to love each other for a lifetime. Sometimes, a person's role in someone else's life is simply to walk alongside them for a stretch of the road, whether short or long, before eventually saying goodbye.

He and I no longer share the same path. I have no idea if I’ll ever find a love that true again down the road, but as long as I know I gave him my absolute all, that's enough, right, Mom? "TO LOVE WITHOUT REGRETS," right?

I’m going to stand on my own two feet, and I believe I can do it, don't I, Mom?