Everyone has a story. Here's mine.
I'm 18 years old. Somewhere through the past year, I fell in love. I know what most of you would say at this juncture. But, I also don't really care.
Because I was there. I experienced it, felt it, lived it. In the beginning, when I met him, it was just another way for me to feel good, enjoy life, and be happy. But as time passed, I realized he meant much more to me than I'd thought. Months of bliss followed. I had never been so positive in my life. He came to mean the world to me, quite literally. And for a long time, I was his.
Then, somehow, things changed for him. I don't know when, why, where, or how. But they did. And I have spent innumerable hours, sleepless nights and stupid brain cells, just trying to figure it out. Needless to say, in vain.
It's almost been a year, but I can't figure him out. I can't figure out the one person I would give anything in the world for. I don't know the solution. Should I move on? Forget him? That's what a lot of people tell me. As if it were a button that could be pushed into effect. Should I give it time? Let the natural state of affairs guide my life?
I don't know the answers, I don't really care about them anyway. Because whatever may be the end result, the truth is, I felt love. I felt it, and I lost it.
I cried him a river, then watched him sail away on my tears.
So I only have one question for all the people who began reading this with a prejudgment about me.
You can get married at 18. You can vote at 18. You can learn to drive at 18. You can have sex at 16. You can drink at 25. You can stand for elections at 25.
So how old do you have to be for your love to be termed 'real'?