Who Comes After First

Do you remember when you were younger and they said first love never dies and then you believed them?

You then started forming this unbreakable idea in your head which glorifies the beauty, and endlessness of your first love. You imagine how First Love would hold your hand, take you to the dance, put on his best suit to impress you and actually fix his hair just to look good right next to you. You imagine how First Love would lean in, you’d feel his breath against your face and actually have those soft lips of his brush right up against yours. You get so excited over the thought of one day lying right next to him, feel his body heat right against yours and explore your innocence together.

The truth is, we all glorify finding our First Love but we never actually consider the fact that First Love might not even be our True Love. True Love may be our second, third or even fourth love. Yes, First Love will always have that one special place in our hearts where nobody will ever take but First Love might also not be the best thing out there for you.

I found my True Love right after my First Love broke me. After First Love broke me completely and dragged me through innumerable emotional deaths, I started building these walls around myself. It was impenetrable, I was sure of it. I collected the stones of my painful past and mixed it with trust issues. I started piling them up to build the thickest wall I could around my heart. It was unbreakable, I was sure of it.

And this brown-eyed jerk came walking along, touching the vulnerable parts of the walls I built which I actually did not notice, for the life of me. He was not gentle with the way he touched me, either. He was a tempest, a tsunami inspiring feelings inside me I never thought I’d ever feel again. Every single stroke of his fingers against my walls shattered a piece of stone that I wished I could cement right back every time he did it. But I was as helpless as an infant in his arms. For a while, I hated how he broke down these walls. I started plotting ways on how to build them back up again.

“Trust me, babe,” he kept telling me. How could I when these doubts keep filling my head and keep replenishing my walls? I was tired, though. My heart and my soul had been through so much and for once, I wanted someone to cross or break these walls and see me for who I was, love me for who I am. I was tired of putting back up the walls that he breaks. And every time I try, I remind myself that he was not my First Love.

For a while, I drifted in his arms and rode the tempest he offered. I reminded myself he was not my First Love. And he never will be, to which I am most grateful about. His fingers touched the vulnerable parts of me and all my walls crumbled to dust. They were no longer resistant to the love he has to offer. He beams at me and all my doubts slowly melt away into a puddle right in front of me. Tough love from him sometimes drives me crazy but I know it is tough on him too.

No, he isn’t my First Love, nor will he ever be, but he will forever be the one love whose fire matches my own, whose love makes me better, whose eyes melt my heart, and whose soul entangles with mine.