-Nikhita U, I Year B.Com and Divya Mahesh, II Year B.Sc Mathematics
Love – the very word sends people crazy at times, but as we mature, we pull ourselves out of a world we once thought couldn’t get any better, and instead, search for one that’s more promising. Maturity sometimes dawns in the form of questioning the ideal of a perfect someone, and why it means/ meant so much. It also comes with the realization that one’s idea of who they’d like to be with, is bound to change with time.
From just looking at all the kids our age as potential friends to asking ourselves if one of them was something more, we all discover the first stage, what we all called ‘crushes’. The secret conversations with friends, adding that extra oomph to your conventional self, hoping your special someone would notice. Though unreciprocated, crushes ingrain in us the desire to be the best version of ourselves; a head start to self-admiration.
Some of us were probably lucky enough to have our own puppy love story, our ‘first’ significant other. Looking back on all the firsts, the amount of naivety in what we were looking for and what we thought was perfect can baffle anyone; imagining our future with someone, a future completely different from the one we see now, and somehow believing it would all be with someone we now see in a completely different light.
As we grow up and out of these, blame it on the more active hormones or the increased exposure to the ‘signs of true love’ articles online, as teens, we end up feeling like we’ve finally found ‘the one’; someone we presume we’d never have to get over, because every cell within is screaming that we are ‘star crossed’. But this time, our approach is more conscious, or at least we convince ourselves that we have ‘thought things out’.
However this first love happens to be a major plot point. If it succeeds, we’d have one hell of a story to tell our kids. But, sadly, the timeline of firsts would cease to exist without heartbreaks. When somebody walks away from your life for the very first time, you invariably concede into your own translucent bubble. It takes several attempts from people to weed you out of your shell and to re-establish the confidence and validation you never realized you lost. And even when you finally seem to be over it, they don’t cease to be a part of you.
In the end, no love is less, no love is more. It is not measured by looks, by the admirers, by arguments or by differences. It only matters if it is understanding and accepting enough to help you grow together instead of growing apart even when a million uncertainties are thrown your way; if it grows stronger or weaker with time. Time gives legitimacy to its existence. Time is the only true unit of measure.