Currently listening to: First Love – Hikaru Utada
You will always be inside my heartいつもあなただけの場所があるから
(There will always be a place for you only)I hope that I have a place in your heart tooNow and forever you are still the one今はまだ悲しい love song
(Now, it’s still a sad love song)新しい歌 歌えるまで oh, oh-oh
(until I can sing a new song)
Do you believe in romantic soul mates?
Side note: I’ve completed all the prompts from WP. It was fun while it lasted. Maybe they’ll come up with new ones in the future. Till then, I’ll be plucking random prompts from various sources.
The first time I heard First Love by Hikaru Utada, it drifted through the air of my tiny apartment like a soft whisper. My former roommate, Yummy, had introduced me to it, her voice intertwining with Utada’s as she sang along. Yummy—half-Japanese, half-Korean—had a way of making everything feel cinematic, and soon, the song became ours. We played it on repeat, sprawled out on the floor, lost in the fantasy of a love so deep it felt like destiny. We’d daydream out loud, wondering what it would be like to have a soulmate—someone who fit so perfectly into our lives that loving them would feel like second nature.
Fast forward to now. My friend’s boyfriend asked me if I believed in soulmates. I could have given him a simple yes or no, but instead, I turned the question back on him. “Do you believe in twin flames?” He nervously laughed, which then piqued my friend’s curiosity, and she asked what a twin flame even was.
I told her that a twin flame was deeper than a soulmate. A soulmate is someone you feel an undeniable, profound connection with, but they are still their own entity—separate, whole. A twin flame, on the other hand, is the other half of your soul, the mirror to your being, the one who reflects both your light and your shadows. It’s the kind of connection that sets your world on fire, whether in love or destruction. But as I explained it, I realized I never actually answered his question. Do I believe in soulmates? I don’t know. Maybe once, I did with my first boyfriend in high school.
Love has never felt like something that follows rules—it’s chaotic, unpredictable, sometimes beautiful, sometimes cruel. My heart has been broken so many times, shattered into particles so tiny that even if I tried, I don’t think I could superglue it back together again. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be mended. So I let go. I stopped wishing and wanting. Instead, I learned to live in the now—to embrace what is, rather than pine for what could be.
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