To all the Boys I have Loved Before

First would be you, cold and beautiful ‘Edward Cullen’. Funny how I can still imagine you sitting in front of a 13-year-old me at Sunday school, smelling of expensive, foreign perfume. I fell in love with the back of your head. And I kept falling while you never turned around, never looked past your admirers and cousins at me. When you finally did, we were older; I was cynical and you were cheating on me with my best friend.

Can you believe it’s been almost a decade since? I’ve moved on and so have you. Fallen in love so many more times, and so many more times, I’ve had my heart kicked in. I guess you have too.

For you, I leave good wishes and a truce. May you find your happiness and a ‘Bella Swan’. And I hope, if we ever have to see each other again at that church — where we once fell in love and then crashed and burned — we can exchange a small smile. No hard feelings.

Second would be you, proud and prejudiced ‘Darcy’. When I first saw you, I was barely old enough to be called an adult, still mostly a kid at heart. But you stormed into that room and my heart like you couldn’t care less. And then you left, one of those places, in a wreck.

My first true heartbreak. I would go on to dream about our kiss for days on end. I held on to the aftertaste of your whiskey and cigarettes so dearly. But then one day, you shrugged, “My mother would never accept a Christian girl,”. You were my rude awakening.

For you, I leave my prayers and forgiveness. I once stood in the middle of a busy road and wept for you. Years later, you were in the same place, crying for someone else. I never wished pain on you, not even when you spit that on me. I hope you’ve grown since, and have changed for the better. And I pray, you find your peace and second chance someday.

Third would be you, sweet ‘Heathcliff’. You were someone who loved me unconditionally. More than I asked for, perhaps more than I deserved. And I, like ‘Catherine’, never quite saw you. I loved you, but I never fell in love with you. There were always so many unkind souls around; one playing with my heart, another groping me in the dark...another wrapping a towel around my throat. I was distrusting and claustrophobic. I needed air to breathe. I needed out.

You loved me when I didn’t ask for it, and in your eyes, I know I’ll be the villain who trampled on your heart. But look at what we were from my end sometime. I get to have a say in how my story goes. If I could take a ‘no’ for an answer from the boy I loved before you, so could you. Read the room. That does not make me a 'bitch'.

For you, I leave an apology and some advice. I’ve never been sorry for not falling in love with you; you cannot force that on someone. But I am sorry for the way I left, with all that wreckage in my wake. As for the advice, please never hold on to someone so tight that they end up needing an escape mission if they want to leave.

Fourth would be you, the ‘Amal’ to my ‘Charulata’ — the learned nerd of my one-sided, star-crossed love story. Did you even know I existed?

After an age of trysts with pretty boys, you, with your big brain and smart mouth, were a breath of fresh air — an earthy and nicotine-scented fresh air. You quipped, snapped, debated, fought… and watching you from afar, I learned what confidence looked like; what a good writer looked like.

For you, I leave a note of ‘thank you’. You left too soon, with the love of your life. But in my noshto neer, I learned to build better me. You, in your exuberant presence and haunting absence, inspired me to write.

Fifth would be you... I never had a fictional name for you because you used to be my favourite bit of reality. But I guess you always had the markings of having stepped right out of a Taylor Swift song. Remember when you were embarrassed to introduce me to your friends while I showed you off to mine? How you kept me like a secret while I kept you like an oath?

But time has passed. Wounds have healed. The days of your Nike scent lingering on my sheets are long gone. And so have the days of you being the Gyllenhaal of my story. I no longer remember us all too well, and I bet you no longer think about me.

For you, I leave friendship and good songs. I'm partly happy we didn't last as lovers because we were always too alike. I wish you well and hope that someday, you and I can applaud each other like Lautner and Swift.

Sixth, I haven’t met you yet. I don’t know if I ever will. But if I do, I want you to know that I am headstrong and loud, caring and careless, messy and obsessive, a hell of a cook and a sucker for sitcoms. I don’t compromise my opinions and dreams to fit with the boy I love, and I won’t change that for you. And I will never, ever be scared of you. I will, however, love you with all have if I fall for you, like a stupid 13-year-old girl. But if we never meet, that’s okay too.

I will be fine.