My first love died today. Aged 18. He really knew how to live it up and he always did. He was a stark contrast to me, and I loved every part of that. He showed me the life I wanted and I never had. He loved me innocent and sweet. God! He'd hate what I am now!
I fell in love when I was 14. I didn't know it yet. He was the ultimate bad boy and I was the epitome of naivete. We were the perfect cliché. I could never even look directly in his eyes, being impossibly shy. He was my muse. He was probably the one person who inspired most of my poetry. He was my first kiss, my first love, my first male friend, the first person who ever got close- he was a lot of firsts. He made me. I hated him and I loved him. He was something else and even when it came to bad boys, I definitely picked the worst one. He had passion. I never realized how miraculous it was that some of it was directed towards me. I could never figure out what he liked about me. I was ugly, weird and had no discernable personality. He thought I was beautiful, though I could lose a little weight. When we started talking again a few months back, I wanted him to see me now. He'd be so proud. But he never did.
He died living the way he loved. I bet he has few regrets. Unfortunately, he left me with far too many. I never dated him. I'm tough that way. Impossible to girlfriend-zone. I wish I had been with him. I wish I had gone for a walk or coffee. I wish I was strong enough to not care and take risks like he did. I wish I had been brave enough to be his. I wish I had messaged him last night and maybe this wouldn't have happened! I wish I had met him just one more time. I wish our last conversation had been more meaningful. I wish I hadn't met some other guy today, in our spot. I wish he was here.
But he still is the first guy I ever admitted to being in love with. By the time I did that, it wasn't that big a deal. I mean, I did take over a year. I have a lot of memories. He's dead and I can't even think of the amazing, cherished ones.
Right now I'm just afraid. I'm afraid that if I don't do something, I will forget. I'm afraid of oblivion. Not of being forgotten but of forgetting. That one boy who met me, loved me and changed me. I can't type out every single thing I remember about him. I'm having trouble recalling. But when the memories come, they flood. Its a flood I wish to drown in, to never forget, to submerge in our memories and have him consume me. But I can't. I'll forget how he made me laugh, how he loved me, how playful and protective he was, how he made me love and change yet stay the same. How he made me realize I was better the way I was- unadulterated, innocent and sweet. You know what they say about first loves- you never forget them. I hope I never do.
It's not real. I still expect him to show up on my newsfeed saying "Hey meri jaan". I can't let anyone else call me those words. Ever. They're his now. It's not real. He hasn't really gone. We only communicated virtually lately. I wanted to see him on my birthday. At least he got to see the dress. I wish I hadn't waited to ask him to my birthday. I wish I had seen him! I wish I had been with him for the rest of my life, just spending days like he does, free, impulsive and crazy. Naina, I wish you could have been here to read this and then make fun of me for being the nerd you think I am :p I love you jaan, I always do.
I fell in love when I was 14. I didn't know it yet. He was the ultimate bad boy and I was the epitome of naivete. We were the perfect cliché. I could never even look directly in his eyes, being impossibly shy. He was my muse. He was probably the one person who inspired most of my poetry. He was my first kiss, my first love, my first male friend, the first person who ever got close- he was a lot of firsts. He made me. I hated him and I loved him. He was something else and even when it came to bad boys, I definitely picked the worst one. He had passion. I never realized how miraculous it was that some of it was directed towards me. I could never figure out what he liked about me. I was ugly, weird and had no discernable personality. He thought I was beautiful, though I could lose a little weight. When we started talking again a few months back, I wanted him to see me now. He'd be so proud. But he never did.
He died living the way he loved. I bet he has few regrets. Unfortunately, he left me with far too many. I never dated him. I'm tough that way. Impossible to girlfriend-zone. I wish I had been with him. I wish I had gone for a walk or coffee. I wish I was strong enough to not care and take risks like he did. I wish I had been brave enough to be his. I wish I had messaged him last night and maybe this wouldn't have happened! I wish I had met him just one more time. I wish our last conversation had been more meaningful. I wish I hadn't met some other guy today, in our spot. I wish he was here.
But he still is the first guy I ever admitted to being in love with. By the time I did that, it wasn't that big a deal. I mean, I did take over a year. I have a lot of memories. He's dead and I can't even think of the amazing, cherished ones.
Right now I'm just afraid. I'm afraid that if I don't do something, I will forget. I'm afraid of oblivion. Not of being forgotten but of forgetting. That one boy who met me, loved me and changed me. I can't type out every single thing I remember about him. I'm having trouble recalling. But when the memories come, they flood. Its a flood I wish to drown in, to never forget, to submerge in our memories and have him consume me. But I can't. I'll forget how he made me laugh, how he loved me, how playful and protective he was, how he made me love and change yet stay the same. How he made me realize I was better the way I was- unadulterated, innocent and sweet. You know what they say about first loves- you never forget them. I hope I never do.
It's not real. I still expect him to show up on my newsfeed saying "Hey meri jaan". I can't let anyone else call me those words. Ever. They're his now. It's not real. He hasn't really gone. We only communicated virtually lately. I wanted to see him on my birthday. At least he got to see the dress. I wish I hadn't waited to ask him to my birthday. I wish I had seen him! I wish I had been with him for the rest of my life, just spending days like he does, free, impulsive and crazy. Naina, I wish you could have been here to read this and then make fun of me for being the nerd you think I am :p I love you jaan, I always do.
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