They always say it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I can't understand that. The way I'm feeling lately, I wish I had never fallen in love, ever. I can't even bring myself to look at other couples, or even think about dating again. I feel like another statistic. Just another broken heart among the many. I feel for all those people who have had their hearts broken. I wish I could make a difference, but I can't. I can just sit here and wallow in my self pity. I didn't even eat for two days, and my mom began to worry, but everytime she would enter the room, I would get up and leave. There was no use in telling her about it when she could tell I was sinking lower and lower into depression.

I don't even know how it happened. All I know is that she cried, and I cried. And it all happened so fast that I don't even remember what order everything happened in. She walked into my room and began crying. I thought she had been hurt. I thought she was sad about something so I went to put my arms around her. It was instinct. I would have done it if it had been anyone. When she pushed me away, I was a little surprised. Never had she ever pushed me away.

I felt like it was something I had done.

"What's wrong?" I asked her.

She looked up at me with tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes. All I wanted right then and there was to wrap my arms around her and console her. But I didn't want to be pushed away again. I loved her and it hurt me to see her sad like that.

"I'm sorry, Taylor," she whispered. Her sad eyes looking into mine brought tears. I didn't let them fall. I wouldn't. I wasn't about to cry in front of her. I had too much pride for that. She walked up to me and placed one of her soft hands on my face. I closed my eyes and briefly relished in the contact.

She looked into my eyes and I could tell something was wrong. Something deeper than her being just sad. I tried my hardest to read her. But the look she gave me was one of regret and sorrow. I knew what was happening, but I wouldn't let myself believe it. We loved each other. We spent so much time together. I told her everything. She knew me more than anyone, more than myself even.

"Sorry for what?" I managed through the struggle not to slip and cry. I took a deep and shaky breath and slowly let it out. She was struggling against something too. Against losing control. She couldn't stand to break down and weaken. She knew what she was there to do, and even though she knew it would hurt her, and me, she wasn't leaving until it was finished.

"I'm sorry for doing this," she let her hand fall causing me to let out a small barely audible cry. I hated that there was no physical contact between us. I wanted to reach out and grab her. I wanted to hug her and kiss her like I always did.

She looked up at me longingly, maybe hoping she could find something in me that would make everything easier for her. She found nothing and her eyes were soon cast upon the floor.

"I'm with someone," she said. The words came out so quickly that it took time for me to process what had just been said. I looked at her with a look of disapointment. It was all I could do. I had never been cheated on. I had never been dumped. I had never even been in love. All of this was new to me. Everything from her kisses to right now.

I didn't know how to react. I didn't know if I should be angry or sad, or what. But it all seemed obvious. She had been with someone else. Someone else had held her and kissed her. Things that should have been reserved for only me. I struggled against tears as I stared back at her. I was mad. I was sad. I was angry. I was frustrated and confused.

She reached up to touch me once more. Had it not been for the latest breaking news, I would have cherished that touch. I would have anticipated it, but I couldn't. She had been with someone else! I never thought it would ever hurt this much. I pushed her away from me. There was nothing else I could do. I was in my bedroom. There isn't much room up there for me to storm off, and I wasn't about to let my family see me like this.

"Taylor, I meant to tell you sooner," she said making an effort to approach me.

"What do mean 'tell me sooner'?" I fumed. "How long has this been going on?"

"Not very long," she said fighting sobs.

"Oh, so you thought you'd wait a couple weeks before you told me?" I was cold, and bitter, and everything else associated with anger. I had thought we spent so much time together. But I guess not.

"I didn't mean to hurt you Taylor! I love you! You can't just turn this around!" She cried.

"I'm not turning anything around! You're the one who was cheating on me! That doesn't sound like love to me," I looked at her weaping form. It took all my power not to go over and hold her. I was hurt, but just like any other victim of a broken heart, I wanted to fix things. And a part of me thought that we could. But she stared back into my eyes coldly.

"I did love you Taylor, you know that." She said. I believed her. "But I don't want to be with you anymore! Okay?"

I was shocked. I always thought it would be deeper than that. But that was it. She didn't want to be with me anymore. I couldn't help but wonder what I had done. Am I really that bad? Am I really that boring? She wouldn't make eye contact with me causing my heart to sink lower and lower. She didn't like me anymore, just like that. She went out and found someone else, someone who was more fun and exciting than boring ol' me. I shook my head and tried to escape the feelings of loss and sadness that were slowly creeping up on me. I wasn't so much angry anymore, I was more sad.

"I have to go," she whispered. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. She walked up to me and placed her hand against my face once again. I looked into her deep brown eyes searching for a solution to this problem. There was nothing in her eyes that seemed to have any solution. She stood on tip toes and placed her lips against mine gingerly. My heart raced and my eyes fluttered. I had kissed her so many times but none of them seemed so meaningful as this one. And it hurt that much more, knowing it was the last one. I would never get to kiss her again, or hold her again. I would have to see her in the arms of another guy. I would have to live with the fact that she was out there somewhere, kissing someone else.

As soon as the kiss began, it seemed to end. I wanted to stand there longer, but she turned and left, leaving me alone. I stared at the closed door in front of me and for the first time, I cried. It was over. My first love had come and gone and I was standing there weeping like a baby. Something told me to get over it. I knew that eventually I would, but it wasn't going to happen that fast.

I crawled into my bed and hid under the covers. I made a secret vow not to come out until everything was over and I woke up from that horrible nightmare.

So when I'm standing up on stage performing for my fans, I begin to wonder how many of them have loved and lost. I'm sure more than I would have originally thought. But to me it seems so much different now. I feel experienced now. But I know that no matter what, I'll still feel the same way I did the first time.

I hate loving and losing. I hate love. Things would be so much easier if no one loved anyone. I wouldn't have to worry about getting hurt when a girl decided she didn't want to see me anymore. Or when she decided she liked someone more than me. I can't be that selfish though. I can't blame anyone. I can't even blame myself.

But I still have that one last kiss locked in my memory. The way she looked as she walked out of my room still haunts me at night. The light touch of her hand to my face sends shivers up my spine. She was my first love, and my first loss. Next time, I'll try to be a little more exciting.