a note on my first love

This feeling between them went beyond love, hate or passion. It was a committed resignation that theirs was to be a difficult love, one that ventured into strange lands, one that required sacrifice, selfwill and determination. He denied it and she knew that this was the only kind of love they both could truly believe in, because it was the only kind that satisfied their mutual need for personal conviction and profound desire. Their desperate need to fight for whatever they believed in.

They were both fighters in their own way. He was a resolute fighter against life’s unpredictable enemies, the kind of warrior who fought for stability and comfort in an imaginary home. She, on the other hand, was a freedom fighter who fought for everything she believed in, beliefs that were absolute and unwavering because she felt she had the right to. They admired each other and this was to contribute greatly to their intense love and hate for each other.

They were both so self possessed, it was the reason why they believed that the feeling they had was pure and true. It came from deep down within, it appealed to their inner core in a fierce form of animalistic attraction. Throughout their lives, he was the meticulous one, planning life’s every battle on a tactical map. With her, he was irrational and indecisive whenever she was resolute and determined. She was the spontaneous one, sleepwalking through life’s pleasures but so frightfully awake when her emotions were stirred. They were the anti-thesis of each other and yet they had fallen in love.

This was to be the source of all their conflict. That they hated each other yet loved each other so much. There was no denying that they admired each other’s strength of character – yet they often fought and detested each other for the same reason. For theirs was a destructive sort of love, all encompassing, deeply personal and completely selfish.