Thoughts about love in the 80s.

Still feeling rather poorly. Wish I'd feel better but these things happen for reason I suppose. Been spending far too much time on the LL forum but having some interesting dialogue all the same. A discussion about photographs has proved extremely interesting and has led me back down a path to my days of the 80s.
My late teenage years. My first proper boyfriend years. My learning about the mad ups and downs of what love can do, years. The spreading of my wings years. A funny if not angsty time to say the least.
My first proper boyfriend years were 1987.

1987 at a student party on Forest Road West. The house felt enormous. He looked small. Small against the backdrop of the large Victorian staircase. How did we meet? Our bodies warmth touched each other on the stair case, taking a breather from the madness deeper inside the house.
He asked my name. I replied. I noticed he had a different accent to me. A posher accent. A student accent. He had a kind smile and an innocent 'air' about him. An innocent air of not being streetwise in a city like Nottingham. He was a Northern lad by birth but had lived around the world, it transpired, in International Boarding schools.
For some reason I found myself attracted to his vulnerability and gentleness. He wasn't the usual type I fell for; Too skinny. Too posh. Too gentlemenly.
We kissed. And kissed and kissed. He wanted my number. I accepted.
From that moment on and after our next initial meeting, we couldn't stay away from each other. 3 weeks on and we'd moved in together. We'd moved to a cramp shared house. I was in love.
He was creative, a photographer, a gentlemen, fun to be with, a laugh, cooked meals, made wine, smoked spliffs, drank wine, read books- Gustav Flaubert, loved me, photographed me.
ME. Me in sepia, with cold tone, black and white, mystical, classic, posing, naked. I loved this attention. I loved him.
Time moved. We moved. We changed. Love for him grew. He was growing. He wanted more in life. I wanted him. He became indecisive about what he wanted. I wanted him. Forever.
He took me on a rollercoaster ride of emotion for about a year. This broke me. Depression set in. We decided to break.Broke up.
He met someone new. I sensed this a long time before though, because she came in to the shop where I worked and I just knew. She looked at me in such a way, that I knew she was his now. I was hurt.
I lived alone after this time. This was the most difficult time I think I've ever experienced in my life. I missed him. I loved him. I knew he was gone. I knew I was going.
Somewhere dark inside me had been unleashed. I felt destructive,empty, angry. This is the only time in life that I truly could've harmed myself. I considered overdose on about 10 occassions.
My saviour was my friend Richard. I didn't ask him to be, he just was. He visited me everyday. He made me laugh. He made me cry. He forced me out. He looked after me. He liked me. I think he may've loved me. Words like this weren't spoken about though. He made me remember me and who I was.
Time passed by and I moved away to a new country and a new experience. This healed me. Healed my heart and my lost love.

Looking back at this time is strange for these reasons. I had such a wonderful time but a dark time too. The path I took then, hasn't been visited really for quite a long time. I've enjoyed visiting this path again though. I'm over it. I've learned by it. It's made me part of who I am today. Thanks proper boyfriend no.1 for doing that for me. Thanks for letting me experience this emotion and coming out the other side. Thanks for letting me know now how to react to such dark emotion.