Love, to me, is such a strange concept. I remember in 7th grade, I “dated” this little white boy for a
week. I swore with all my heart and my soul that I loved him to the moon and back, and no one could tell me anything.
But then I broke up with him and forgot about him once the school year ended.
So here I am 5 years later thinking about how that puppy love doesn’t actually compare to the feeling that you get when you’re willing to die for someone and will do anything in your power to make them happy.
Love is truly a double edged sword, it brings you bliss and pain, happiness and sorrow.
Maybe in 5 more years, I’ll call myself silly or even crazy, but for now, I’m a 17-year-old girl who thought she felt love once upon a time. Then life got to me and I got a taste of what it was really like, not “here, we can share this cookie” but “here, I’m giving you my soul and trusting you won’t do too much damage”.
It’s insane. It’s scarily beautiful. It’s bold.
I’ve accepted that I fall far too easily and I’m prepared for a lifetime of heartbreaks, but I’m also excited for the calm before the storm, the bliss before the break.