“Promise me you’ll find someone who’ll love you like I didI say, emphasising on the last word in the sentence, both for him to know, & for me to keep in mind.

Remember that he broke you” my subconscious says to me as I walk back to the door. “You’re never going to be his only one” it says, as I lock the gate behind him. “He might have been your first love, but to him, you were just another girl” it whispers to me, and my heart crumbles into pieces.

Eleven months have gone by & I still hope that someday he’ll realise that no one will ever love him the way I did.

“But he wants me back.” I try to debate with my subconscious mind. “But what has he done to prove it? What has he offered, other than a few sweet words, stringed together in a perfectly acceptable sentence? Why don’t you realise that it’s time for you to move on?” My subconscious mind screams. “I have! I have moved on! I’ve moved on from the idea that him & I could ever be together! I have moved on from the idea that he could ever love me the way that I love him! But just because I’ve moved on, doesn’t mean that I’ve stopped loving him. I’ll stop loving him the day all hope melts away with his memories. Until then, let his memories be.”



The first boy that I truly loved hurt me in a way where my muscles ached & my skin burnt, but the scars just wouldn’t show. I was certain that he had taken away a vital piece of me, but he was so skillful at what he did that I still to this day look inside myself to understand what’s missing, but can never truly lay my finger on it.

Even though legally I was an adult, all I wanted to do was cradle myself off to sleep like a little child, scared that he might show up again, like the horrible nightmares you wish you could forget. And then he did. Two months later he came back. And I was too mesmerised to realise at that minute that taking him back would do nothing to help me grow.

But that’s the beauty about pain, the more you go through it, the better you are at predicting it. And as soon as our lips touched again after the sixty days’ exile, I knew this was wrong. And I’m glad it didn’t last. I’m glad you came back again, to show me that I was so much more than what you could ever be. I was softer, kinder, and more in love. You breaking my heart made me fall in love with myself. For that I thank you. 

I was too afraid to fall when I fell for you. I don’t think I made a wrong decision. I’m glad you were my first. I now look forward to all the love that’ll come my way. I now know that I want to be with someone who loves me like I love myself, not like you claimed to love me.


I didn’t fall in love with you because you were ‘easy to love’. There’s​ nothing simple about loving a man like you.

It took countless heartbreaks inflicted upon me by you, keeping my tears in so tightly that my head felt like it was going to explode; and the indefinite period of waiting just to hear a single word from you, & the complete shattering of my heart all over again because you forgot about me two days in a row.

In short, your complete negligence of my love for you, and my blindly forgiving you for slowly and mercilessly tearing me apart made me realise that i could never love someone as much as i love you because I would never let anyone hurt me the way i let you.


You know the feeling that you get when you’re sitting next to a window, engrossed in some activity more fascinating than watching the leaves dance outside; and then suddenly a gust of wind blows through the grills, right through your hair, which now is in an utter yet forgivable mess, & the smell of rain & damp soil fills up your entire room, making you feel all nostalgic about the memories that may or may not have taken place?

That’s how it felt when love first knocked at my door.