Submissions for Journalism and Public Relations are open to one work of creative nonfiction journalism or public relations completed for coursework during an eligible semester. Submissions should not exceed 10 pages. Samantha Caccamo wrote the 2nd place submission in the Journalism and Public Relations Category for the 2025 President’s Writing Awards.
About Samantha
Hi, there! I’m Samantha, and my journey from Northern California to Boise has been anything but boring. I have gained the irreplaceable opportunity to meet amazing friends, professors, and life-long relationships throughout my years studying at Boise State University, and owe my future endeavors to its campus community. I have found extreme joy in exploring new hiking trails, city life, and enjoying the beautiful views Boise has to offer. I am incredibly grateful to share my passion of storytelling to the university, and unveil the millions of stories across the globe that await my unpredictable journey into the art of journalism.
Winning Manuscript – ‘I can’t find her in anyone else’: How Our First Love Affects Our Lives
Your first love. Your first person. Your zing. We have almost all experienced the bittersweet gush of emotions for an individual in our lives, whether it is temporary or forever. It begins as a first impression. We may have met them through friends, colleagues, or perhaps they were just a passerby lingering in the street. It is subject to the highest amount of change, emotional wagering, and can be unpredictable in the best way— or the worst. However, the question remains: what about them makes them the one?
As human beings, it is in our nature to seek a mate. A mate can be the person to stay with us until death, or be the backstory to our hatred for the very thought. It is rumored that you never forget your first love. Is it true? Is love really the epitome of our minds? Four people tell their stories.
He Was The One, Or So She Hoped
“My first love was explosive, endearing, and really overwhelming for a sixteen-year-old. It was the beginning of freshman year, and him and I had started as friends. It kind of always turns out like that, right? I guess so. I was mildly popular, and he was the nerdy type. Everyone made fun of him, but he really soaked it up. Class clown, knows the whole school by name, but was always still the one last on the invitation list. I mean, I may have found him a little cute, but I really didn’t feel any attraction. Then, we became the best of friends. I don’t mean just at lunch table, either. He knew my parents, I knew his, and it was rare we wouldn’t be messing around town at least three or four times a week. But, it was all just fun. One thing led to another, I had to switch schools in senior year. Turns out at mid semester, there was a new kid in our P.E class. And guess what, it was him! And man, did he change. He got rid of the dorky glasses, cleared his skin up, and was wearing something other than his father’s hand-me-downs. It has me blushing already, girl! Like, how can that all happen in a year? Anyways, I really started to develop a crush on him in way faster than I should have. The feelings really hit when I asked him to the sweetheart’s dance, and I realized I was in love with this guy. We suddenly started going to more dances, seeing each other more than usual, and even held hands. Listen to me, I must sound like a kid again. Stuff really hit the fan when I confessed my heart to him at graduation. He admitted he liked me back, but then begged me to hook up. What?! I was about seventeen, and hadn’t even seen a man naked before. I was way too shy, and he started to get way too pushy. After I said I’d want to after a month or two, he blocked me. Blocked me, man! I’m talking six years of friendship down the drain. And that really affected me. I honestly didn’t heal from it until I turned about twenty-one. I never really found healthy love after that until my now boyfriend, and we’ve been together for three years.”
– Gloria, twenty-six
The One That Got Away
“She was great. She really was. I met he through a friend of mine, old buddy from work. I can really remember her smile, her charisma, even her smell. I really felt the sparks fly when we had gone on our first date, and every word out of her mouth resonated with me. I loved hearing about her day, her opinions, her likes, dislikes, even what she had for breakfast that morning. Y’know? You just wanna hear the little things. We ended up going out a third time, and I asked her to be my girlfriend. Everyday was perfect. After about two years, she had landed her dream job, I won’t say where, but it’s something she had worked really hard for. It was her dream, and I supported her fully. She worked extremely long nights, and those little things turned into little disagreements. Slowly, each day turned into more and more work, arguments, and we rarely even saw each other. The job had seriously become her, and she knew it. After four years, we had another argument about something dumb. Chores, something stupid like that. We were in bed, and she just turned around to me and stared. I go, “What’s the matter?” You know, telling her I love her and consoling her. What all men do to comfort their girl after a fight. She just stayed quiet, stoic…I had never seen her do that before. She looked me in the eye and just said, “I don’t love you, Anthony. You don’t fit in my puzzle anymore.” I mean, I was shocked. I loved his girl with all my heart. I didn’t give a crap about how much money was spent, gifts, none of that. She was my girl. We went back and forth, and nothing could change her mind. She didn’t have room for me anymore. She moved out within a week, and I haven’t seen her since. I’m a strong guy, but that really leaves a mark on a human being. The room we shared so many memories and warmth in just grew cold. Lifeless. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t miss her. And really, it’s been holding me back. I still haven’t moved on, even after six years. I’m still single.”
Anthony, thirty-seven
The Forever Lover
“I always saw myself as a hopeless romantic. I never looked at boys, never talked to boys, but was always thinkin’ about them, let me tell you. I was always the friendly one, but never first pick. But there was this boy who used to trim my parents’ lawn in the summer. He’d only work for a few dollars, and I’d always be watching him from my window. I grew the bravery to finally go outside and go talk to him. We were both in our teens, about seventeen. When he first opened his mouth, I didn’t really know if I liked him, if I’m being truthful. He was real southern, and I was more of a city girl. We started spending more time together, and my parents even fired him because he’d be talking to me than trimming that dang front yard. Slowly, I started to like him a little more everyday. One time, we got milkshakes at Wally’s, this old burger joint up the street. He told me I looked pretty, and we shared shakes like Lucy and Ricky. He was real gentleman, held my hand and opened the doors, and even asked to kiss me. Some people might think you need to experience more life before love, but I couldn’t disagree more. My Johnny was always right, always there. We were married for forty-two years, and it felt like a few days when I think back now. I’ve of course never moved on. He’s always been my man, and I’ll save myself until I’m up there with him.”
Misty, eighty-two
The Friend-Zoned
“Let me start off by saying, this isn’t going to be cute, and it’s extremely embarrassing. She was beautiful, smart, all those good things. We had been close friends since freshman year of college, and I can’t say her name, because we still hang out from time to time. We’d been friends for so long, and by the time we were twenty-two I was madly in love with her. I was obsessed with this woman. We never went out romantically, had any physical touch than a hug, and hadn’t even mentioned the word love. I blame myself. I eventually fessed up and told her how I felt, and she certainly did not take me seriously. She laughed. She laughed, but it was okay. I’m the funny friend, and that’s fine. She wasn’t interested, and it’s really that simple. I’m single for a reason. It was genuinely the most awkward and embarrassing experience of my life, and I cringe at the thought. And really, it left quite a bit of damage on our friendship. It’ll never be the same, and I blame myself for that. I can’t say I ever got over it. I don’t think I’m deserving of that love, type of stuff. And really, that’s my own fault. I’m not a loner, I’m not an outcast, but I’m really in that percentage of people that are just built to be alone. The awkward, heavyset, PlayStation-addicted crowd that is just better off by themselves. I’m fifty-two years old and I’m most likely going to be single for the rest of my life, and that’s on me. It’s just more comfortable, and safe that way. I sometimes regret ever saying that, or even meeting her sometimes to ever experience that feeling. It’s nobody’s fault but my own. I’m happy, accountable, and just living everyday with the peace of my own mind and company. She knows I wish her well, and is still the amazing person I met all those years ago.”
Brian, fifty-two
Our First Love: The Outlook
These stories are the accounts of our friends, our neighbors, and the strangers next to us on the subway. The unknown stories of the world around us are endless, and can either leave a tear on our cheek or a sense of hopefulness. We can only manifest these types of love reach us, or stay a nightmare that is all too relative to our own experiences. Is the isolation of fallen love as rare as we think, and does it change our perspective forever? There must be a solution, or a way for us to abandon the staleness of traumatic rejection. Psychologists Dr. Mac Stephenson and Dr. Shelley Greene gave their two-cents on an issue even the strongest have fallen mercy to: love.
“Love really is a thing we can’t escape, and is something we’re built to feel,” Stephenson said. “It really falls into the category of PTSD, it can affect a person for the rest of their life. Rejection is a dish served lukewarm, unassuming, and unpredictable. You can’t forget it.”
Stephenson weighed into the boomerang affect on those who are faced with unrequited love, and how abuse can reflect our choices, surroundings, and relationships for longer than we’d expect.
“A person who is the victim of severe rejection, mental abuse, or failed relationships can be subject to seeking that same failure. It is what they find comforting, and what they are
used to, and is the cold truth a lot cannot recognize,” Stephenson noted. “The self-esteem is lowered so deeply that it becomes habit, and is what they only see deserving.”
Dr. Mac Stephenson explained the release of dopamine in the brain when encountering the prize of our first love, and how it can seem impossible to ever replicate. While the room of rejection is bleak, there is a glimmer of healing shining through the peephole of gratitude and optimism.
“It is never the end, and it is natural to experience that sense of longing. It can really feel permanent and inescapable,” Dr. Shelley Greene expressed advice for moving forward in the eyes of loneliness. “You must give yourself time to reflect, and truly feel the weight of your emotions. They are natural, and will lighten in due time, and it is important to be unbiased to yourself.”
Greene explained the need for one to make light of what is possible in life outside of relationships, and focus on bettering their own self-esteem and confidence, with romance being the least of importance.
The proof is in the pudding. It is never the end, and the ice-cold platter of rejection should not leave us frozen, but craving the warmth of self-love and acceptance. The experience of sadness, loneliness, and need for companionship has existed in all of us, and is scientifically proven to be natural. We’re human! That crush who never responded, that date that stood us up, or that friend who didn’t feel the same should not define our confidence, but move us forward toward seeking a love like Misty’s, or the stranger seated beside you.