“do you ever miss it?” he asked, stirring his drink without looking up. “your first.”
i didn’t answer right away.
“everyone says the first one is the one you never really get over,” he said.
“maybe,” i said. “but i don’t think i want to get over it. i just don’t want to do it again.”
he laughed, soft, like he didn’t believe me. “so what do you want then?”
i looked at my untouched avocado toast for a while.
“the second,” i said.
“who’s the second?”
“i don’t know yet.”
most of us think that the first time we fall in love is genuinely special.
the first person who comes into our lives. the first encounter. the first love. they all leave a mark that’s unique and distinct, and believe me, it doesn’t fade the way people promise it will. maybe because it opens our awareness to what the heart can give and recieve, paving the way to possibilities and experiences we have yet to fathom.
and i get it. i really do.
but if i’m being honest, if i were to compare, i prefer the second.
and i still don’t know who that is.
i still don’t know who that is.
let me emphasise the second time. the second person who will come into my life. the second time someone falls in love and truly commits. it might not be as fiery as the past, but it’s gentler. more careful. more tender. maybe on the second attempt, love finally learns how to nurture instead of consume.
because the first one already taught me how to burn. i dont think i need to learn that again.
i don’t want a rushed or a hurried morning. i want the twilight that invites me to go home and be safe. a love that is gentle, not burning. a love you can compare to drizzle, not rain. the kind you can stand in without needing to run for cover. it can be likened to a sun about to dive into the ocean, bringing a calm and affectionate feeling.
i’ve watched that happen in st kilda alot of times. the sun doesn’t fight it. it doesn’t rush. it just goes down slowly, like it trusts the ocean to hold it.
that’s what i want.
i want to be held like that.
i’m still here, writing to someone who hasn’t shown up yet.
i’m not in a hurry anymore.
i just want it to be soft when it gets here.
