My First Love

She was everything I ever wanted in a woman. If I were to conceptualise a list of ten
desired qualities in a woman, she would score eleven out of ten. She was my other half, this
uncomprehendingly wonderful being that fulfilled my life, so much so that I sometimes doubted
her existence and thought that I had contrived her in a dream. She inspired me, challenged me
and loved me just as I was: quirks, flaws and all. She touched my soul so deeply that I was
completely vulnerable to her grasp, which was always tender and caring. She taught me what it
felt like to truly love someone down to your core; what it felt like to constantly live with a
burning desire, so strong that it actually pains you, and she showed me the perpetually engulfing
warmth of deep, flaming, impassioned, mad love. She dreamed up delightful visions of our
future together – bright enough for both our imaginations.
Loved every element of her soul. What she deemed flawed, I saw as more reasons to love
her: I loved her heart warming stutter when she became too excited about a topic of
conversation; that floppy wisp of hair that she could never seem to control; the way she overused
the word perpetually when describing her passions; her shyness when wearing her glasses, letting
my compliments bounce off her like a tennis ball to a solid wall; the sad smile she made that
accompanied a vacant stare when remembering happy memories of a loved one lost; her
confidence that was always accompanied by a tiny crevice of self-doubt, a nook that I constantly
tried to fill; and her overwhelming passion for life and love: always optimistic, always grateful,
always pure and true. Our conversations were energy-filled debates of love and adoration:
bursting with excitement of sharing our knowledge, truths, love and joie de vivre; yearning to
include each other in every capillary of our lives.
She was my perfect puzzle piece: an over-thinker, a relentless inspiration-seeker, forever
a solitary explorer, believing that life is meant for loving, and happiness is meant for sharing.
She loved and took note of life’s simple pleasures, like a steaming cup of tea, aged wine, the
smell of old books, the beauty in the silliness of a fit of uncontrollable laughter, the underrated
phenomena of a thunderstorm, the crinkles in my nose when I laugh and the unique story to the
cracks and pops of a spinning vinyl. She was a down-to-earth woman, taking a liking to the
distinctive story behind every object, location and individual, equipped with the remarkable
ability to connect with your soul; her presence an eternally rare gift. She encouraged my
passions, loving the way I wrote words that I had never spoken, and my constant desire to make
them bounce off the pages on which they were written. But he was also was my reality: pulling
me back down to earth when I had floated too far into space.

Justin Louie R. Pastoral

G-11 (ANIMATION)