To My First True Love
I didn't know it the moment you walked into my life. Not even when we started going out or talking about our exes or life or our plans after college graduation. No, I never thought of you as my first love.
To me, you were my love. That was enough. You were the only person who knew me to the core. You happily opened your arms to me—my strengths, my flaws, every cell that made me who and what I am. You were the only person who would listen to me talk and talk for hours without being judgmental about my favorite TV shows, my celebrity crushes, the places I want to go to someday. You were the only person who would be brave enough to challenge my arguments and opinions and I didn't mind because at the end of the day, I knew those didn't really matter.
But I knew and was sure that you were my first love the moment you decided to make your exit out of my heart, out of my life. Because the moment you finally said goodbye, I knew I wouldn't be able to get over you. I would be fine, yes. I would be okay, yes. I would even get to move on with my life, yes. But whenever I got home after a long day in school, thoughts of you and of us never stopped haunting me.
I knew you were my first love because I always find myself comparing the next guy to you. He doesn't have ambition, just like you. He doesn't get me the way you do. He's scared to disagree with me because of his fear we might break up. He doesn't get why I find YA characters endearing and why I still cry when watching The Fault in Our Stars even after seeing it for the fifth time. Our silences are awkward and weird, unlike the silences I had with you.
You're my first love because I can always feel the pulse of how much I care and love you. I always find myself thinking if you've already gotten home safe at 8PM, or if you've already eaten your lunch, or wore the seatbelt while riding your car. You're my first love because I don't cry at the thought of you, but I always, always find my way back to you—thinking about what if I fought for you, begged for you to stay, a million what ifs that wouldn't even be occupying my mind if I realized when I still had you that you're my first love.
I'm sure you're my first love because I know one's first love isn't the first person you love or the first person who breaks your heart, not even the first person you were in a relationship with. Your first love is the first person who leaves a mark on your heart—a mark so deep that its life reaches the tips of your fingers and toes, a mark so deep that it transcends time and becomes your ruler for anyone who crosses paths with you even years after your first love said goodbye.
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This is a drawing and a poem I’ve made for a summer love. Our time together was short-lived but the feelings were not.
On a platform we stand
Faces seen all in a blur
Relentless searching led by a spur
To find someone, to feel something
Aren’t we fools to waste away time?
To look for one man’s treasure
Somewhere as ephemeral, as fragile
As a bond built in crime
But aren’t we just like every weary heart?
Hoping for an oasis
In the midst of the desert
Wanting to quench our thirst
Aren’t we all like frosted windows
Of old and battered houses on winter?
Wishing for the sun to give us warmth
To melt the facade so we can show what the inside is made
Aren’t we maven pretenders?
A Casanova? A Temptress? Who made us this way?
A sly fox? A ruthless hunter?
Let down the walls, It’ll be okay
Rushed for a hug, now no hesitating
Engulfed by a sense of bliss or was it longing? Eyes wide-open,
Stepping on a quicksand I embraced the fall into the deep end
Gazed at you lying there unaware With you, found something rare I swear
Realization dawning as loud as a thunder
As the Beating of your heart put me into a deep slumber
Waking up from this reverie
Truth slapped me back to reality
Two worlds so different, now I see If only I could I’d be anything and anyone you need me to be I’m the ludicrous clown, you see
Thought if I ruin it first I’d be free
From the doubts brought by my own insecurity I was so wrong,
What a tragicomedy Brought by the month of April
We rushed the ticking of clock to May Hands interlocked
Weaved skin to skin on a rainy day But when June came to say hello, all went dark grey
What was once there ceases to exist Like the wilting of a flower
Once so beautiful, so full of life Now turned into dust by death’s kiss
Unbounded joy brought by your presence
Paralleled with the perennial ache of your absence Yearned for and offered seventh heaven
Now the heart weeps for evanescence
A mirage, to be the fair maiden The sorrow to find out I’d end up our own villain
But all’s well for you are but a distant dream Gamaliel, You are, I knew it from the very beginning .
Written by me, the one-shot story
Coffee is about a girl who used to cherish moments with someone in a cafe. Sometimes, a simple drink can leave an imprint on someone's mind. ____________________________________________
It's been a year since my boyfriend and I broke up. I love him and he loves me too but things just didn't worked the way it should be. Now I'm heading at the cafe where we started and ended. I have no choice but to go there after all it was made up of both happy and sad memories. But that's life , right? We can't be happy all the time. Challenges come and hearts can break. But it doesn't just end there.
"One signature coffee , please." I said as I ordered from the cashier.
"What size?" she asked.
"Small." I said.
Then she took my payment and I headed towards the seat near the window. A window seat.... for two. The cafe was surprisingly full tonight unlike the past few days.
Again, I have no choice but to sit on that window seat. It is where we sit often. It is our seat. Our place. There are a lot of couples at the cafe and wow I'm alone. There's a part of me which says you should be happy because he's not the only guy in this world. Another part of me says you're still hurt so don't pretend to be happy. The truth is , I am both happy and sad. I'm happy because we're both free and we can focus more in our careers. But I'm sad because I'm not the other half of his heart anymore. I'm sad because I let him go even though I still love him. I'm sad because I can't see him. I'm sad because I can't share this relaxing coffee shop where we can chill with the aromatic smell of the coffee.
"Small signature coffee?" the waitress said as she serves my coffee.
"Yes. Thank you." I said.
"Since you're a regular customer here, we would like to give you this item for free." the waitress said. She handed me a purple journal with the name of the cafe on it and a pen.
"Oh thanks." I said .
"Enjoy your coffee!" she said.
I took advantage of using the freebies from the cafe. A window seat is also a bonus in inspiring me to write something. While sipping my coffee my brain and my heart began to function smoothly.
And so I wrote: My coffee has been cold lately, I can't feel anything after taking a sip and there's no heat to leave a pain on my lips. And it was a relief. But then, I remember one thing about sipping a cold coffee instead of a hot one: cold coffee doesn't leave you any marks when you sipped it, just like a blunt feeling. But a hot coffee will leave you a remarkable pain from the heat which reminds you that you are alive to feel....
I closed the journal and stared at the window. He was the coffee. The hot coffee. No matter how our breakup hurt me, he left me a mark and a lesson to learn. A hot coffee can be a challenge too or an obstacle. They all made you feel that you are alive. That you can go on with your life. You can still stand up. Love taught me to move forward. He taught me to be stronger. He is love.
WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE A BROKE FANGIRL/FANBOY
One of the proudest things as a fan is the feeling that you are part of their growing fandom and stardom. From streaming their songs online, watching their music videos, TV guestings, collecting photocards, albums, lightsticks, attending to their concert and fan meetings surely, you're a fan! But there's a problem, MONEY.
It's really heartbreaking when you hear that members of your favorite band are coming and their concert is just around the corner but here you are thinking of how to sell one of your kidneys just to go to their concert (kidding).That no matter how much you try to save, it will never be enough for a ticket because you are only a student who has limited resources or if you're an adult, you have bills to pay. So joining a "team bahay" livestream is your last resort, but sometimes even those links don't work!
Of course if there's team bahay there's also "team airport/ team labas", fans who waits at the airport hoping to see their idols upon their arrival. How we wish we could also attend and be part of it, something like shouting their names, fanchants then cry out of happiness while waving their lightsticks or banners. What a concept isn't?
Hey, cheer up! being broke doesn't make you any less of a fan. Know that there are other ways to support and love them. For sure our idols have the same and equal love to us no matter what "team" we belong (team concert, team airport/labas and team bahay).Maybe for some people, they might think we are being overly dramatic without knowing that for us fans, their existence itself and music saved us and made us happy once in our lives. -Gwy June 16,2020