Photo via: Dawn Chapman
Once, when I was a lot younger, I submitted a completely fake, made-up story to this website. I don’t even know if it was ever posted, but when I think back on it, I cringe. It was badly written, and was so strange and shallow I would be surprised if anybody thought it was real.
At the time, I did it because I was craving to be loved. I was maybe 13, in my last year of middle school, and I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet. I’d had endless crushes that had never been reciprocated. So I was fascinated by the amazing coincidence that was love – someone who could feel the same kind of thing you felt about them. I wanted it more than anything.
And I eventually got it, even if it caused me (and so many other teens) so much grief. I am 19 now, and in college. Love – all forms of it – has mangled my consciousness. I experienced two extremes of euphoria and sadness. I fell in love with the wrong people, with my best friends, with the place I was living in, with the community that surrounded me, with a boy who had funny ways of showing that he loved me too. And I learned how love could wreck you. I have filled pages and pages with half-drunken words that spill from my mind when I think about the people that are now gone from my life. I thought I was excellent at goodbyes, but I was wrong. I thought I was capable of replacing people, but I am not.
These are the memories that I write about, again and again, so that I will never forget them. Love feels like home in the other’s arms, love involves endless tears, love is an overpowering scent, love is when the earth shifts its axis and suddenly you are somebody else’s orbit, love is a lot of letting go. It’s a phenomenon that I question almost everyday, when I wake up and the first thing I think of is how you kissed me that one night. And, I love you. This story is real as it ever will be.
M
At the time, I did it because I was craving to be loved. I was maybe 13, in my last year of middle school, and I hadn’t even had my first kiss yet. I’d had endless crushes that had never been reciprocated. So I was fascinated by the amazing coincidence that was love – someone who could feel the same kind of thing you felt about them. I wanted it more than anything.
And I eventually got it, even if it caused me (and so many other teens) so much grief. I am 19 now, and in college. Love – all forms of it – has mangled my consciousness. I experienced two extremes of euphoria and sadness. I fell in love with the wrong people, with my best friends, with the place I was living in, with the community that surrounded me, with a boy who had funny ways of showing that he loved me too. And I learned how love could wreck you. I have filled pages and pages with half-drunken words that spill from my mind when I think about the people that are now gone from my life. I thought I was excellent at goodbyes, but I was wrong. I thought I was capable of replacing people, but I am not.
These are the memories that I write about, again and again, so that I will never forget them. Love feels like home in the other’s arms, love involves endless tears, love is an overpowering scent, love is when the earth shifts its axis and suddenly you are somebody else’s orbit, love is a lot of letting go. It’s a phenomenon that I question almost everyday, when I wake up and the first thing I think of is how you kissed me that one night. And, I love you. This story is real as it ever will be.
M
