I never thought I would be the fairytale head over heels in love girl, who fell in love with the possibility: until you. My infatuation of you blossomed before my eyes even widened in desire. There are enough clichés to fill a book warning girls about the mercurial bad boys of the world that I should have known better. Luckily for me, you were the boldest of them all and I had no hope of escape. The pain of loving you hurt so “good” that I will forever reminisce and desire more of our life together. You made me weak in vulnerable love that shaped who I am.

The moments of being lost in a sea of strangers yet found in your sight. With a personality as effervescent as yours, it isn’t a wonder that the clouded sky still burned brightly. I met you a girl and walked away a woman: with eyes that had seen the world, a voice that had been raised to the rafters in joy and sorrow, and a heart wary of the hurt but tumbling fearlessly into the unknown. I walked through your streets with wonder at the magic and life that you exude like dust from a pixie.

Hand in hand we found adventure around each new corner. I may have left, but with all first loves, goodbye is never the end. It has only been a few weeks, and yet I know in my heart we will be reunited again one day. Things will have changed. However, you will still be the embodiment of life: the fantastical, the weary, and the hopeful; while I will forever be the girl that squeals in delight of your majesty. In a way, I believe that the wonder and eternity of first loves are what make them so magnetic.

You may not be my last love, and that is okay because thanks to you I fell in love every day for forty-five days, lived lifetimes in moments, and explored new worlds like they were the streets of my home. Thank you, London, England, for being my first love: it was a love story I never knew I needed.