“When was your first love?”
You get this question once in a while as long as you are a social human being. I got into this topic recently with a friend of mine and it struck me; what really is a ‘first love’?
Ever since you were born you had emotions. Emotions can differ in various categories such as joy, interest, anger, distress, disgust, and et cetera. What about love? Is that an emotion? Or is that a whole other concept?
Before we get into the topic of first loves, I want to set a clear ground on the concept of love itself. I recognise the fact that I am not a ‘love expert’- theoretically and literally – but I can definitely express my opinion on the concept itself. I believe that love is definitely an emotion. But I also believe that it is so much more complex than just an emotion. Just like how an emotion is different from a feeling or a sense. A feeling or a sense, in my definition, is a bodily feeling; a physical reaction. For me an emotion is something that derives from within – something that derives from your heart. And that is what I believe, leads to love. Hence, it just makes me conclude that love is something along the lines of an emotion.
Now we have drawn a line to what love really is: a derivation from emotion yet more than the concept. Please do note that this my opinion only and I am only entitled to this opinion by my thoughts from my head. Then, we should answer the ultimate question: what is the standard of a ‘first love’?
The answer is so cliché but I must advocate the truth: the standard doesn’t exist. (This somehow reminds me of when Lindsay Lohan said: “The limit does not exist!” in Mean Girls) As complex love is on its own, for myself or for actually, anyone to draw a line when it first begins is nonsense.
Now, I know this topic has been leading up this. When was my first love?
I don’t quite remember when my first love was. I just know for a fact that I have loved someone during the past years that I have lived in this world. And I don’t believe first love should just be between your significant other. You can really love your parents and that could be your first love; you can genuinely adore a true friend and that could be your beginning. Who knows? But I will tell you what I remember so far. And I won’t talk about my parents because, honestly, how boring would that be?
I think it was back when I was in elementary school. I was in second grade and I was a tiny, shy little kid. I am still a shy kid; the only difference is that I am a lot bigger than I was back then. I was in division 5 and he was in my class. I am not really sure what he exactly looked like but I remember he had chocolate-brown hair and matching eyes. He wore rimmed glasses, I believe. It was a rarity to see a second grader wearing glasses but I think he liked to read a lot, which explains the glasses. I wore glasses too. I totally thought we were soulmates just because of that, being naïve.
I imagined a lot about him before I went to bed. Nothing dirty, mind you, I was in second grade. I imagined just trivial things about him. I wanted to know what he talked about with his friends, what kind of books he read, and just every little bits and pieces that I could manage to scrap up in my 9-year-old brain. It was cute, thinking back to it. And I wish it could have just stayed that way forever. Resting in my mind as a beautiful memory and something to look back upon years later – just like I am doing right now.
But something happened. My best friend at the time, obviously knew about my little crush on him. I actually liked him for 2 consecutive years and we always seemed to end up in the same class. I really thought this was like a meant-to-be. I honestly did. By the time I reached fourth grade, my second year of liking him from afar, I thought I had the courage to tell him. I mustered up all my strength and confessed….not to him but to my best friend.
Now you would ask, why? It was because I wanted to tell someone about this feeling I had so buried deep inside of me but I was too shy. So I decided to just kind of tell her. But this friend of mine was nice. Too nice. She decided confess to him for me. The word got out and naughty classmates – boys, actually – went around the hallway yelling at the top of their lungs. For a shy person like me, that is an absolute nightmare.
Just a few years ago, I spent a bit of time alone thinking about it and decided for myself that the feeling, the emotion I had all those years ago wasn’t love. At least, it definitely wasn’t my first love. But now I stand corrected. Whatever it was, or whatever age I was, love is still love and humans are definitely capable of loving another being even when they are still a bit young.
So, whether you are in love with the boy next door, or you are infatuated by a celebrity, and you can even just adore a really good friend; love is still love. This is what I believe in and despite all the things that people might raise about the concept of love, one thing still remains as it is.
Love is beautiful.
Do keep it when you have it and treasure it when it comes.
P.S. I am sorry I haven’t been posting really anything on this blog lately – I’ve gone to a new school which you would know if you are one of my regular visitors – But I’ve gotten accustomed to this school and I can definitely post more now that I am better adjusted. Thank you for those who are sticking by and reading my somewhat tedious posts! Love you all! -Sally