I will never forget the first time I fell in love.
I was 15, almost 16 I think, and that boy walked into my life, figuratively speaking. I don't know how it even happened. It just popped out of the blue. But you know what I'm talking about. It wasn't as if we're strangers that crashed or anything. Before the love thing, everything was a real blur.
So things started off innocent. We'd already met. I get to see him every week day, for four years . He was my classmate. We became friends, then best friends. I'll spare you the starry-eyed details, but suffice it to say, something deep within me shifted one summer day. God, I can't explain how I fell completely in love. It wasn't anything physical cause if it was I should have noticed it way before the love thing happened.
For months I was hooked, like a song that never gets old in my mind. Wait, it was more than that. I remember nursing a hopeless crush on him. I'd go out, trying to get his attention. And a definite eww things I did just to desperately see that smile. You know, those things that when you remember, you just wish you didn't do. Well, that was long gone now.
But at that time, that was my curious case.
A few days ago, I was rummaging through old photos and letters and stuff in my memory box and pop, it happened - my journals appeared. Ahh, those things. I might burn them as well for being oh so corny. Amid my furious scribbles and heart-heart doodles, there are unfazed and glazed entries about that boy - hmm... at that time, it felt absolutely the "undying" kind. I littered the page with thoughts I will probably smirk at now. In all seriousness, that was my hormones working, no, really.
But still, I cannot deny the fact that I was really in love. Or was I? If not, then it felt a lot like it.
Poor me. My present self wanted to reach back in time and shake some sense into her. What was I thinking? Well, I can't go back to that 15 year old me.
So, yes, things started going to get wonderful between us. Then 'we' happened. For two months things were okay and I had all the reason in the world to smile and be happy. Then one night, he broke up with me saying he's not ready for anything.
Poor me again.
Well, oh well, it was a very long time ago. Having moved on (believe me I already did, if not then where would I get the nerve to write this.), I can finally analyze my behaviour before and learn something from it.
After the night we broke up, I filled my awfully sad days and nights listening to girl rock music shouting independence and how guys are downright jerks. That was the day I turned into a feminist, well, not entirely. It was more of a coping mechanism for me. Looking back, the things that happened between us could never measure to a "real relationship." We were more of friends that lovers. In reality, we were best friends at best, and I was an awkward girl with glasses and a weird choice in everything. He wasn't the guy I scribbled in my journal. He was just a boy.
A fun trip down memory lane will take me to those times that those one-liner text messages and blog posts mentioning my name would make me squeal mercilessly. Wonderful times.
Oh well, things started to become clear to me. Months after the break-up, I decided that it was time to close the journal of my life chapter with him. Well, for a long time, I had other crushes, but he remained my one constant and my longest crush.
Well, I admit it, I had a suitor whom I rejected because he didn't measure up to that boy. That was a vicious thing I did.
For once, he was like a pair of shoes that fits perfectly, my favorite. But don't worry, I'd outgrown those shoes. It no longer felt right. It's time for a new pair.
I was 15, almost 16 I think, and that boy walked into my life, figuratively speaking. I don't know how it even happened. It just popped out of the blue. But you know what I'm talking about. It wasn't as if we're strangers that crashed or anything. Before the love thing, everything was a real blur.
So things started off innocent. We'd already met. I get to see him every week day, for four years . He was my classmate. We became friends, then best friends. I'll spare you the starry-eyed details, but suffice it to say, something deep within me shifted one summer day. God, I can't explain how I fell completely in love. It wasn't anything physical cause if it was I should have noticed it way before the love thing happened.
For months I was hooked, like a song that never gets old in my mind. Wait, it was more than that. I remember nursing a hopeless crush on him. I'd go out, trying to get his attention. And a definite eww things I did just to desperately see that smile. You know, those things that when you remember, you just wish you didn't do. Well, that was long gone now.
But at that time, that was my curious case.
A few days ago, I was rummaging through old photos and letters and stuff in my memory box and pop, it happened - my journals appeared. Ahh, those things. I might burn them as well for being oh so corny. Amid my furious scribbles and heart-heart doodles, there are unfazed and glazed entries about that boy - hmm... at that time, it felt absolutely the "undying" kind. I littered the page with thoughts I will probably smirk at now. In all seriousness, that was my hormones working, no, really.
But still, I cannot deny the fact that I was really in love. Or was I? If not, then it felt a lot like it.
Poor me. My present self wanted to reach back in time and shake some sense into her. What was I thinking? Well, I can't go back to that 15 year old me.
So, yes, things started going to get wonderful between us. Then 'we' happened. For two months things were okay and I had all the reason in the world to smile and be happy. Then one night, he broke up with me saying he's not ready for anything.
Poor me again.
Well, oh well, it was a very long time ago. Having moved on (believe me I already did, if not then where would I get the nerve to write this.), I can finally analyze my behaviour before and learn something from it.
After the night we broke up, I filled my awfully sad days and nights listening to girl rock music shouting independence and how guys are downright jerks. That was the day I turned into a feminist, well, not entirely. It was more of a coping mechanism for me. Looking back, the things that happened between us could never measure to a "real relationship." We were more of friends that lovers. In reality, we were best friends at best, and I was an awkward girl with glasses and a weird choice in everything. He wasn't the guy I scribbled in my journal. He was just a boy.
A fun trip down memory lane will take me to those times that those one-liner text messages and blog posts mentioning my name would make me squeal mercilessly. Wonderful times.
Oh well, things started to become clear to me. Months after the break-up, I decided that it was time to close the journal of my life chapter with him. Well, for a long time, I had other crushes, but he remained my one constant and my longest crush.
Well, I admit it, I had a suitor whom I rejected because he didn't measure up to that boy. That was a vicious thing I did.
For once, he was like a pair of shoes that fits perfectly, my favorite. But don't worry, I'd outgrown those shoes. It no longer felt right. It's time for a new pair.
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