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Teenage Love

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“I love you.”

These three words stranded together were said to me by my boyfriend, after we had stopped dancing our first dance together. He had picked an excellent time to say it, probably even a romantic time. I was shocked, surprised,… and delighted. My brain wasn’t working, and logic didn’t register. At the moment I couldn’t question it, and only later did I think, “How can he love me? We’ve only been dating for about three weeks!” Actually, at that point, we had been dating for three weeks and a day.

It was the first time a boy that wasn’t related to me said he loved me. And yet the moment he said it, I knew I loved him, too. Most people wouldn’t think I was old enough to be capable of falling in love. It’s just “teenage love” they would say. I wouldn’t listen. Because I honestly thought it was real.

We were together for six months, then on again and off again. I never really knew what happened between us, what ended us. Whatever it was, I sometimes regret id dreadfully. There was so much to us or so I thought. And everyone knew that I was his girl. Six months don’t seem like much, but to me it was a life time, a great heart-breaking lifetime that I honestly thought would never see its ending.

We still talk, see each other, but I know it’ll never be the same. But that’s not what hurts the most, and neither is our “ending”. What hurts the most is letting those people be right… because “teenage love” just doesn’t last…



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