If I may defined, the first love of mine is the first person who can cross the wall I made for years. He is possibly not breaking it. He finds a little door there and knock it until I finally am ready to open it by all means.
He is the first person I put my trust to hold my heart. The first person that is able to be closer to me than anyone else. The first person I introduce to my friends. The first person I date.
Perhaps, that’s what I could imagine about first love. There’s not much I could talk about. It is something I have always wondered. The person. The time. The feeling.
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