To My First Love

Dear love,

Hey. I honestly don’t know how to begin. I mean, how do you start talking to someone you’ve never even met, never even seen, never even knew existed? The better and probably the more important question here is this: why? Well, today I guess I’m feeling a little hopeful.

When I’m not doing anything that requires a lot of focus like when I’m just walking around or when there’s really nothing that I do or can think of doing, which is most of the time these past few weeks, you often cross my mind. I always wonder how you look, how you dress, what you do. Do you have thick brows that I’ve always found attractive? Do you have long lashes that are even more noticeable when you close your deep brown eyes? Is your hair short and neat? Or maybe you have delicate curls that touch the back of your neck and your cheeks? Do you wear glasses, too?

Nevertheless, despite having no idea at all on what you actually look like, there are quite a few things that I can be pretty sure of about you. You have beautiful eyes, not because of how they look but because of how they see. You have the capacity to always notice the good in everything, in everyone. In me. I do not have such beautiful eyes, but because you do, you help me see. Your smile brings me warmth. And when you do smile, everything, no matter how beautiful it appears to be, just blurs into the background. Because no matter how beautiful something can be, when it comes to your smile, nothing can ever compete. The sound of your laugh is music to my ears. It is not the kind that mocks, but the laugh that reminds me that it is always possible to be completely and genuinely happy.

It may sound sad, unusual, weird, and whatnot, but to tell you honestly, despite being already a young adult and being way past my teenage years, I’ve never been in love before. You can blame it on me being critical, me being socially awkward, me never being able to find someone who shares the same kind of understanding regarding certain things in life, and a bunch of other possible explanations for this early life tragedy. They may be true but I’d like to think that it’s as simple as it was just not yet my time.

That being said, I outgrew a lot of things about young love- matching shirts, passing notes, and mistaking love for romance. It is highly likely that my first love experience would look nothing like that of other first loves. I’m thinking that it would be a little bit more “grown up”. It will take a lot more than just “good morning” texts, hanging out, and holding hands. Because romance is not love even though they may look exactly the same most of the time. Romance is easy (though it never appeared that easy to me) and love isn’t. More so, true love surfaces once you get rid of all the romance. It is a choice that both of us would make everyday- choosing to stay especially when things get hard, choosing to hold on even when it seems like there’s nothing left to hold on to, and choosing each other again and again.

At this point, while you’ll be the first tangible proof that I am capable of loving and being loved, it is likely that you’ve already had your first even before we met. And that is another story I cannot wait to hear from you. I want to learn of all the places you’ve been to, all the persons you’ve become before your path crossed mine. I want you to tell me about all the books that you’ve read, the adventures you’ve had, the choices you’ve made. I want to know what makes you smile, what makes you cry, what kills you inside. I want to know about everything that you love, everything that you dream of, and everything that you’re afraid of.

I guess you can say that this long-overdue first love is something I both fear and look forward to. But I believe that the moment you hold my hand, I won’t be too scared to take the jump anymore.

I’ll see you when it’s time.

Love always,

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