When I was starting junior high, I was manically depressed (Looking back now, there is no other way for me to put it).  I woke up most days wishing I hadn't, and I spent my days feeling completely segregated from my classmates, my family, and my friends. Best of all, I refused to admit I had anything wrong with me. After all, I was in junior high, and I was too damned cool to care when people could see me! When I was alone, it was a totally different story.

Then I met this wonderful, amazing, seemingly flawless boy. He was older than me, handsome, fairly intelligent, and best of all, he was a musician. A drummer of eleven years, a guitarists and a bassist, and a vocalist. We connected immediately, like the flawless flow of rain into a river. It didn't take long until one of us said the "L" word. From there on out, it was two years of bliss, pain, anger, love . . . It was perfect, it was real, and it was all I had anticipated in a relationship (More in some areas, both good an bad).

For our first Valentine's Day, he sent me this card (which he made by hand) and pick. On the inside, he suggested making a necklace with the pick, which I did. I still wear it almost daily. This pick is among my most treasured possessions. If I can't find it, I panic. We had everything against us, but we bore through it as best we could. He was three years older than I, a sophomore, turning to a junior, in high school, we were 1,250 miles apart, and we lived completely different lives. He lived in a home without love, I grew up never knowing true wanting. Things soured at the end of the second year, however. He wanted to go to London to play with a band, I was entering my sophomore year. We broke up willingly. Two years of my life, gone with three small words  "Go to London," I told him. He never went because two members of the band were killed. We never got back together.  We don't talk anymore. He's with a new girl now, proclaiming his love for her.  I get sick thinking about it and my heart clenches in pain. I still love him with all I have, even after a year, and I want to forget. I want to move on and learn to love again with my new beau, but I can't forget. And I can't throw his necklace away because it's the only connection I have with him now, and I believe it's the only one I'll ever have from here on out.

I was madly in love with my boyfriend of 2 years. He was amazing and everything I've ever wanted and my first true love. Well he moved to Michigan from New York and we decided to have a long distance relationship.

One day while joking around he said we should break up but still be "together." I loved him so much I would've done whatever he wanted. He said he just needed a break.  Uh huh...a break. 

Well we were still "together" with the I Love You's and everything but I didn't even get a call from him on valentine's day. A couple days went by and he just said he was busy so I got over it. About 4 weeks later I called his house bc his cell was off and his sister told me he "was out with his girlfriend."  I have never felt pain like I felt when I heard her say those words.  When I confronted him about it he said he asked her out on Valentine's Day hence no call for me. To this day I lose my appetite when I think about that stupid hallmark holiday.

I met the love of my life when i was about 16. He was amazing and dating my friend at the time. Well years past and they broke up but he stayed my best friend we threw thick and thin and girl after stupid girl and finally in 07 i was his old lady.

We had so much fun together and he was finally really happy. We were going to get married and have a baby and we were so excited.  Then Aug 30th he was killed in a motorcycle accident. i had just gotten off the phone with him before he got on that stupid bike to come home.  5 min later he was gone. He never came home. I'm left all alone.

Growing up, my family always had a pet – dog, cat, hamster, whatever - none of which I considered mine. I decided, after my boyfriend and I got together, that I wanted to get a dog. After much whining and begging, he finally got me a Cocker Spaniel we named Joe for Christmas just before we got married.

There was never any question about whose dog Joe was – I took him to obedience school, I walked and fed him daily, I was the one who got to take him to the vet. He was mine, and I was reminded of that every time there was an accident in the house or he needed to be walked when it was raining.

We were married for 10 years when I decided to leave. The marriage had been bad for quite a while and I needed to start over and be happy again. I moved most of my stuff out while he was at work and waited until he came home to tell him I was leaving. When I told him, he informed me that Joe would be staying with him. I let him know that there was no way I was leaving MY dog with him. I also reminded him that for the past 11 years he had pointed out over and over that Joe was my dog. After a calm conversation (at least I was calm) he realized that I was serious about everything – I really was leaving and taking the dog.  Later, we arranged to have “visitation” privileges in exchange for paying half of any vet bills, and even had it written into our divorce agreement.

Joe lived with me for another five years before dying of cancer at 16½.  When I buried him in the back yard, my ex came over and we had a small ceremony. It was one of the most difficult days of my life. Later, I came to realize that Joe was the best thing to come from the marriage, and I miss him every day.