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When I fell in love for the first time

When I fell in love for the first time, I was just a twelve year old thinking too little of it. It was the first day of class five, and I saw Aarzu and felt this feeling for the first time in my life. Back then I was sure it was love. I was the crazy guy who would bring the moon down to the Earth for love if he had to. I would try to read her favourite book, make sketches of her face (which would turn out to be really, really bad).


I remember trying so hard to get her attention and have eye contact and then look away quickly. I really liked it when she was happy. I could almost literally see sparkles in the corners of her eyes every time she smiled. I loved feeling all these new feelings. 


You know quite early in life, I learnt that life can happen to us in the weirdest way possible, and at the weirdest time. Soon enough into that year, Aarzu started dating my best friend (back then), Jay. 


Things obviously got complicated. Jay and I were still best friends, Aarzu and Jay were still in a relationship, and I still loved Aarzu. I turned into a broken-hearted-roadside Romeo.


Anyway, as time went by, things got better. I mean It took me a little more than two years to get over my first love


I fell in love a couple of more times after that, became the broken-hearted-roadside Romeo a couple of more times, too. I experienced love. That real love? Loving someone with all we have and getting loved just more in return, I am so glad it happened to me. 


I have learnt a lot in these few years of my life and maybe this is my chance to tell you about it. No matter where we are right now or where we end up five years from now, one thing that we can know for sure, is that it’ll be a ride worth signing up for and we always need to believe this. All of us have felt a little broken at some points in our life. Chances are you’re feeling it now. But maybe life is meant to be this way. Made of cloud-nines and rock bottoms for us to live it all before we are gone forever. This is life. It’s always moving, from looking to finding and then losing to fighting until we’re at the end and look back and realise that we’ve won. That we’ve lived. 


Our job is not to find ‘the’ purpose of life, but to believe in a purpose that we feel is right, that we all can share and connect with and maybe create history and future at the same time, we all can play part in our own little ways in making our existence worthwhile. Maybe that’s the purpose of life, to have no purpose and find one, make one, believe in one purpose and make the world a better place, the earth is all we really have. We are supposed to create rivers that flood cities with love, not hate. We need to cause disasters that destroy the negativity in people, not the environment. We need to make art and create some beautiful catastrophe.


Over the years, life has never failed to surprise me and it’s actually been a wonderful ride. A lot of things happened. I started writing poetry, I learned Classical music, I moved out of the city I grew up in, I lived by myself,  I graduated college, made mistakes, learnt new things, messed things up. I made music, released my songs. I travelled. I travelled to the mountains and the beaches, trekked with friends, travelled solo to the mountains, met some amazing people and made some incredible friends.


 I experienced lots of emotions. I felt happy on some days but on some nights, I cried myself to sleep. I woke up excited on some mornings and I felt anxious and almost gave up on some. I broke down on some days, I fell on my knees. But always kept getting back up. I’m deep down in a grave made up of the past and it’s not letting me go. 


One last time it’s me being selfish again.




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