If we could turn back the clocks, to be free of the shroud of naivety, I would go back in a heartbeat. The one who first stole my heart would be my target for making her my best friend, for I know her own trials are so much more complex than anyone's. It would be a treat to forget the initial heart flutters and just follow someone's journey into the wild west with a depth a bystander could never enjoy.
Strangely, my heart still gravitates towards the one who found me at my worst. I would want to chase her across the bounds of fate. She was from a small town, and she lost her kin to all kinds of Shakespearean tragedies, I would have wanted a shot at incorporating all that chaos in her, and the same things that weighed on my own journeys, and have the theory of us make sense.
That is my own beluga. The first girl I liked has nothing compared to the other woman I met. They are not the same experience. When you are young, love is trivial and novel and superficial. The girl who grew into a woman into a force was not in my orbit at all, the infatuation was always one sided and flawed, like a foundation of sand. While it is presumptuous that we assume it was so, it felt that way, and so it might as well be. The woman I met is flawed, she has her own creature comforts and habits. But we made sense at least when intertwined. We found love in a hard place. It was not a fairy tale to be, it was just life. And it made all the difference. I never wanted a Ferrari to take me to Mozambique. It was just my pikachu and me.
Still, to have possibly made her my friend from my childhood idol, that would have been a dream. Like a typical cheesy 90s movie about mail. Its good to have little dreams.
