30-Day Writing Challenge, Day Three: Your first love and first kiss

One thing that rarely appears on TO&E is romance.  When it does, it’s typically an allusion to Prince Harry or a comment on the perfection that is Paul Varjak.


Quite frankly, there isn’t that much to tell!  Contrary to my Rory Gilmore-like personality, I don’t have a flock of guys fighting over me and being attacked by swans.


Let me get my own life together before I have to worry about someone else’s.

Instead, my TO&E tends to focus on different kinds of love, that for family, friends, and pets (mine and those of friends, acquaintances, and strangers walking past).  For the sake of this post, however, I’m going to focus on something entirely different:  that which should be everyone’s first love.


The other day, I was presented with some questions for an interview.

“What is your favorite thing about yourself?”

I stared at my computer screen for a moment.  Despite being a relatively confident person, I was absolutely lost for an answer.  I needed a reply that didn’t sound too vain, too cliched, too counterfeitly humble.

Then I realized, why the hell did it matter?


What too many people don’t prioritize is a love of themselves.  What others think doesn’t matter.  What matters most is your own self-worth.


And so, whether or not I realized it at the time, my first love, in a way, was myself.  That being said, here are some pretty cool things about me:

  • I did come up with an answer for the interview, and I’ll stand by that one.  
  • My eyes.  They like to oddly turn from blue to an almost greyish hue, and I’ve always loved that.  They’re also nearly identical to my grandfather’s, so there’s an extra level on which to cherish them.  They may not see perfectly, but they sure look good seeing poorly.
  • My brain.  I rarely admit it, but I have a genius IQ. When I’m struggling over the latest astrophysics equation or managing my zillion-million activities, I even forget it myself.  Nevertheless, it’s really stood by me over the years, and I’m pretty darn grateful for that.
  • My people. If I told someone “Have your people call my people,” they’d never know exactly where to turn.  Between friends, family, and everyone else, I have an amazing community supporting me in whatever I do.
  • My hair.  As the only blonde in my family, I’ve always felt a bit special.  It’s super thick, too, and I’d be lying if I said the years of hairdressers’ compliments weren’t appreciated.  It can be a pain in the neck at times, but I love it.
  • My heart.  Bouncing off of my interview response, I’m truly one of the most caring people you could ever meet.  I sometimes wonder how I can manage to study history— quite frankly a chronology of conflict— while I wind up caring so much about every little thing.
  • My strength.  Despite my rather absurd emotions, I’ve always been good at staying strong when others’ need it the most.
  • My accomplishments.  For nineteen years old, I’ve done a heck of a lot.

Maybe this post is a little too proud, a little too vain.  But what’s wrong with being confident?

Conveniently enough, Her Campus recently posted this wonderful article to help us all along with this.

Keep on being yourself, and loving every minute of it!

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