I thought I knew what love meant when I met himI thought I knew what love meant when I met him. I was willing to go through hell and worse for him. So he had a mental disorder, so did my father. In some way I felt connected to him, like we belonged together. He was my first boyfriend, my first kiss. I knew nothing about intimacy until I met him and I was so emotionaly tied, I was afraid to leave him. Even when he said things to make me feel worthless, or got angry with me for no reason, I felt inclined to stay. Despite the fact that he wouldn't listen to me or so arrogant he couldn't accept his faults, I felt like he would be the only one to love me, so many people had left me in my past that I wasn't just going to give up so easily. "I'm Bi-Polar" was his excuse, "Do you know what it means to be Bi-Polar?" He'd always ask whenever I got upset or asked something from him. He made me so afraid to leave, he made me believe that I would be the cause of his death if he ever lost me. Finally I could no longer take it, sure he never pressured me to do anything I wanted to do, he didn't hit me and when he said he loved me, I believed it. The day after my 17th birthday I broke up with him. I'd never felt so relieved in my life. To this day we still talk but he is physically and emotionally wasting away. I try to tell him not to give up, to move on and be strong but he says that he can't and that loved killed him. Through him I found out so many things about myself; I've gained as well as lost. I can only hope that one day he does not lean on his mental disorder as if it's another limb and is not afriad to let the right person in. I thought I knew what love meant when I met him, thought I would never be with another person in my life, but my experience taught me that I've only scratched the surface of "love" and it's baggage.