What shall I compare it to?
Perhaps I shall compare it to a new born baby; so beautiful and magical. A love that is unconditional, deep, indiscriminating and full of hope. Or perhaps I shall compare it to a pas de deux, each step calculated, each move analyzed. When a man and a woman fall in love, they both can’t seem to get enough of each other. No matter how many times they are wronged by the other, no matter how many times their hearts get broken, they stay. And that’s the magic in first love.
She was the winner in this game. I always knew it. The way he would stare into space for so long at the mention of her name, the way his cheeks seemed to burst with bloom when he saw her, the way tears would well up in his eyes when he talked about her. But I told myself the feelings would fade with time. I was wrong, they didn’t. I had lied to myself from the very beginning. In fact, it had begun with the end, and to these eyes the end looked like death. Did I say these eyes? No, my eyes. This is me.
Kiongozi was in love, and it was not with me. But I was in love with kiongozi. It was a twisted love triangle between a boy and a first love and me, the third party. A third party, who was trying to get kiongozi to forget about his first love. A selfish third party who didn’t care that first love meant forever, and promises that could not be broken, and sweet memories that could not be forgotten. And no matter how much I tried to make him forget, he still hurt, she had won. God! I wish that was me. I wish I was the one to whom he felt attached and connected. The one whom he couldn’t let go of.
For a moment I chose to drown myself in music. And I guess the music swallowed up the agony. And I was weak with gratitude that I had music. The music took it all, and I was free. For that beautiful moment I felt like I could love again, like I could fly.
And when my playlist began speaking hurtful messages I opted for the bottle. The booze drowned my sorrow and created an illusion in my screwed head that there was still a chance. The booze, it gave me the courage to pick up my phone and call him up, even put words in my mouth and made me say them. And I thought I heard her voice in the background calling his name. At that moment I stopped wondering how hell looks like. I was in it.
And then morning came, and I had no booze, I had no music, it was just me and my messed up emotions all curled up under my bed sheets. I wanted to stop the aching in my chest but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I couldn’t stop him from falling for her all over again. I couldn’t stop anything. I couldn’t even stop the feelings I had for him.
Hold your glasses folks, let’s toast to first loves.