Old Beliefs

If there was one piece of advice I could give my younger self, especially my 5th-grade self, it would be this: "Never date Cory Tuft; it will only lead to heartbreak." This might sound dramatic, but I promise there's a story behind it that I wish I could change.

In the beginning, things seemed like a fairy tale. It was the year of the fifth grade, a time filled with innocence, laughter, and the blushing embarrassment of first crushes. For me, that crush was none other than Cory Tuft. He was everything a 5th-grade girl could hope for: kind, charming, and, most importantly, he made me feel special. Every time he smiled at me, it felt like the whole world brightened. It was sweet in a way that only those early crushes could be, easily mistaken for the real thing.

As the year progressed, my feelings deepened. What began as innocent admiration transformed into something that felt all-consuming. So, with my heart racing and palms sweaty, I decided to confess my feelings to him. I can still feel the butterflies in my stomach as I approached him. I was terrified, yet hopeful. To my delight, he admitted to feeling the same way, and just like that, we became “official.” We went from exchanging shy glances in the classroom to hugs and sweet little pet names—“Hey babe!” became part of our everyday vernacular. It was thrilling, and I drank in every moment of our young romance.

But, as sometimes happens even in fairytales, bliss fades, and reality sets in. It was one fateful afternoon that my world came crashing down. I had been playing a children's card game at recess with a friend—someone I thought I could trust. After our match, he leaned in close and dropped the bombshell that shook me to my core. He whispered to me, as if sharing a deep secret, that Cory was cheating on me. But it wasn't with another girl; it was with another boy. My heart plummeted into my stomach, and I felt like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. I remember the emptiness that filled my chest; tears started to well in my eyes, but I had to stifle them, especially on that loud, crowded bus. I didn't want to let my father know how hurt I was. He was the kind of parent who believed I was too young for relationships—especially with someone who did not share our Christian values. Well- his Christian values.

I remember sitting there, shock numbing my senses. The cheerful chatter of my classmates faded into a dull roar as I fought to hold myself together. I felt lost. Here was someone who had been so sweet to me, someone I thought I trusted. The facade I’d built around our relationship shattered, and all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

The pain didn’t just vanish. Instead, it spiraled into an entire year of heartbreak. I didn't confront Cory; I didn’t dare bring up what I had heard. I kept it hidden, bottled up inside as I struggled to understand how someone I cared for could hurt me so deeply. It was a constant battle against my emotions—attempting to convince myself that maybe the rumors weren't true, that perhaps they were merely misunderstandings. But deep down, I knew the truth. Each time I saw Cory, I felt that familiar knot tightening in my chest.

That year plodded along, filled with whispered secrets, forced smiles, and labels of being "Cory's girlfriend". Not me, only someone's accessory. I kept my distance from many people, fearing pain that had already broken me down. It was a dark time, characterized by loneliness and self-doubt. My heart became a fragile thing, tender and shattered. Trusting anyone felt like scaling a mountain, and despite my best efforts, I couldn’t muster the courage to climb too much.

Yet, the world kept turning, and as summer loomed ahead, my heart began to show signs of renewal. In the midst of my despair, I met someone new. His name was Aki Yu. The first time our eyes met, it was electric, a spark igniting something deep within me that I thought had long faded away. He had a warm smile and a gentle spirit. Unlike the heartbreak Cory had left etched in my memory, Aki radiated kindness and acceptance. In his presence, I felt lighter, as if all the burdens I had carried for that entire year were lifted, even if just a little.

We quickly became friends, spending hours together laughing and sharing stories. Aki was everything Cory wasn’t—genuine and sincere. Slowly, my heart began to thaw. Aki didn’t know the pain I had endured, but he had a way of listening and making me feel safe. It was the kind of comfort I had missed for so long.

As summer blossomed, memories of Cory began to fade, replaced by laughter-filled afternoons with Aki, exploring the world as carefree kids. I felt a connection with Aki that was unlike anything I had previously experienced—a sense of true companionship and trust.

That summer, I finally gathered the courage to end things with Cory. I confided in my friends, and with their unwavering support behind me, I sent Cory a text letting him know it was over. It felt like an anchor lifting off my chest. I didn’t have to live in the shadow of heartbreak anymore. For the first time in over a year, my heart felt open, and I was ready to embrace love again.

In Aki, I found more than just a partner; I found a soulmate. There was a sweetness in the way we connected, a sense of understanding that wrapped around me like a warm blanket. I looked at him and felt hopeful about love again.

Reflecting on that tumultuous journey reminds me that heartbreak isn’t merely an end; it’s often a gateway to something beautiful. The painful experiences I went through only strengthened me, ultimately leading me to Aki and a new chapter filled with joy and genuine love. The echoes of that fifth-grade heartbreak linger but no longer hold power over me. The lesson learned is clear: sometimes, a broken heart can heal and open doors to even more profound and fulfilling relationships.

As I stand here today, I wish I could tell my fifth-grade self that it’s okay to feel heartache. Life will surprise you in the most unexpected ways, but there’s always a chance for new beginnings—a reminder that real love, the kind you find after heartache, is worth the wait. In a way, I'm glad for the heartbreak, I probably wouldn't have met Aki if I hadn't gone through it.