About Firsts

conversations | about firsts

“I know you’re in love with the idea of firsts. I remember when you first finished reading The Kite Runner, you jumped around for a week straight because the sheer magic of it wouldn’t let you sit but do you remember how you kept yourself locked for the better part of the month that followed because you thought the same magic wouldn’t come back to you again?

           “When you visited the top of the Eiffel Tower and you looked down, all you thought of was how you would remember it as a memory the next time you would come back. It wouldn’t wash over your brain and leave you stupefied like it did the first time. When you watched Fight Club the first time, you were amazed for a day but you cried for the next three days because you wouldn’t feel the same amazement the next time you would watch it.”

          She laughed, “Yeah, I remember.”

           “Is that why you’re still so in love with him?”

          She stayed silent for some time. “Look, I — ”

           “No, just listen to me this one time. Firsts are beautiful. Firsts are the most special. I know. I know. I just want you to remember how when you read The Book Thief, you fell in love with it the first time, too. You cried about not feeling the same when you read it again, too. When you watched The Bucket List, do you not remember how captivated you were with its brilliance? I will never get over the heartbroken look on your face when you realised the loss of that first moment. You went to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but love, I will take you to the peak of the goddamn Everest. Why don’t you see? There will always be another first. I will not tell you that if I relive the things I have lived once, they still take my breath away, and they will, again and again because they are just so beautiful. But I need you to please understand that you don’t have to go back to it. We won’t go back. You can have other firsts too.”

With The Ordinary

conversations | with the ordinary

“You’re extraordinary.”

“No, I’m not,” she shook her head, “and you should stop saying that. I’m just ordinary.”

“Yes, ordinary. Extra ordinary. Isn’t that what your complaint is? You’re ordinary, too ordinary. Extra ordinary. That’s the point, you’re extraordinary. You are so normal, you are so special. So ordinary. Being ordinary is the whole point.”

As We Played

conversations | as we played

She stood beside him, watching the balls collide on the green table.

          “That’s us,” she told him, pointing to the white and a red ball.

          He looked at her. “You are the white ball, then.”

          “No,” she shook her head, “you are. You collided into me. You made me fall,” she giggled.

          “Well, in that case,” he grinned at her laugh and raised the stick, “I was forced to make you fall.”

On You

conversations | on you

“I want to know you in the littlest of details. I want to know which side of the backseat you prefer. Which punctuation you hate the most. That certain lilt in your accent and the way you look at flowers in a garden. And I hope we find ourselves compatible. I hope we’re compatible in the most non-platonic, ungeneralised way. I hope we’re compatible not as opposites or as alikes. I want to prefer the other side of the backseat so you can have yours. And I want to hate the same punctuation so I don’t use it.”