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The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Denison chapter.

Throughout my life, writing has become my easiest coping mechanism. Once I release my thoughts onto the page, I never return to them. Today, I am returning to my past loves from my teenage years. I hope you enjoy and try this healing process next time words just seem stuck inside.

I met you on the day when each apple was ripe for picking. 

I met you on the day that had a clear, cloudless sky. 

I first heard your voice on the day when every bird chirped her melodic song. 

I touched you on the day when every baby tried their first bite of sweet ice cream, 

Swallowing with a smile.

Every time I think of you I think of Dutch Babies coming out of the oven. 

I think of Breaking Bad binges followed by deep discussions. 

I picture cheek kisses and big, stuffed bunnies that ask me to prom. 

I think of late night cereal and early morning wake-up calls.  

I remember black tracks on the road from the missing tire drive.

Walking out of high school, 

Walking into college, 

Then running away from me? 

I suddenly remember dishonesty and mistrust. 

I feel a hidden sense of fear emerge from deep inside me.

Were they there the whole time? 

Sometimes it’s better to not know. 

Cherish the simplicity of memories.

My mind tricks me into thinking of you. 

I picked up a sandwich the other day; 

It had tomatoes on it. 

Remember that day by the pool? 

I got sandwiches for us to eat on the lawn chairs. 

That afternoon in July was the day I found out you hate tomatoes. 

I picked them out for you. 

I got mayo on my fingers, but I didn’t care. 

I took the saggy slices and tossed them onto my paper plate; 

I knew you wouldn’t even want to see them near you. 

I cared. 

I cared too much. 

For the next year, I kept you away from tomatoes. 

I needed to protect you from anything that you didn’t like. 

I stopped ordering ketchup on my burgers. 

I knew you always needed a bite. 

Ketchup doesn’t even taste like tomatoes, but I never questioned you. 

With anything.

I always judged my friends for being too emotional over someone. 

Here I am, being emotional over you. 

I had so many “what ifs” with you. 

There’s a lot unanswered. 

I wanted to find those answers, but I think it’s too late to delve into the unknown. 

Maybe not too late to delve, 

But much too late to succeed. 

Almost there, so close. 

We are nothing; 

We were never anything. 

But I thought we were. 

You were new, something exciting. 

It’s funny how new and exciting can turn into overrated and exhausting. 

Is there any way to fix this?

I guess we’ll see.

Time will tell, as they say,

But actions do speak louder than words, as they say.


Starts as a gentle tug,

Then you’re pulled into a deep, wam hug. 

It squeezes you tightly,

Not letting go, 

Until suddenly, 

You can’t breathe. 

You begin to feel the constant embrace;

It becomes contraining. 

You can’t breathe. 

You try to pull away, 

But the hug pulls you in tighter. 

Do you break free?

Eventually, yes,

But once you’re detached, 

Something feels cold. 

You lack the comfort of love’s warmth.

Annabelle is a senior at Denison University, majoring in Educational Studies. She enjoys journaling, finding cute coffee shops, and crafting in her free time. On campus, she serves as a board member and social media head for Denison's chapter of Her Campus, so check out our instagram @hcdenison!