This I believe: love, not greed or glory, or a god complex, but love, is the most powerful force known to man.
To try and encapsulate my theory about love into a short teen-love story is impossible, improbable, and impractical, and I don’t intend to do so. However, I couldn’t explain it in full without taking up far too much of your valuable time. So, we will make a compromise. You won’t laugh, sneer, or scorn my teen-love-story example, and I’ll keep it short and sweet. Deal?
So, I’m a tenth grader and I’m only fifteen, but already, I’ve done some crazy things for love. Chopped most of my hair off; stayed on the phone until three A.M.; talked for two days solid about life and death and love and loss with a friend whose dad had just died; but by far the boldest, best thing I’ve ever done for love was send a balloon. By the end of ninth grade, I was a wreck. I was in love, I was sick with it, and as the end of the year approached, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to do something. Not just for my sanity, but for the sanity of those around me. So, I acted. I sent him a balloon. It took all the courage I thought I had to actually go and place the order, but it took courage I didn’t know I had to not go back and cancel the order. I spent that whole day in a hyperactive, sweaty-palmed state of nervous excitement. ‘This is ridiculous,’ I told myself, ‘ you’re an old hand at anonymous love notes.’ But, this was different. This wasn’t like, or lust; this was love. But it worked. We were together. Are together, and all because I went out of my box; my comfort zone; my usual modus operandi.
It’s hard to be fifteen, well, it’s hard to talk about love period, without sounding clichéd. However, love itself is a clichéd idea, and like most cliché’s it’s here to stay. Love can start and stop wars; force introverted fourteen-year-olds to go out of their comfort zone, make people go against their parents and religion and friends, all for a fleeting sense of completion, that tingly feeling in your stomach. For something you can’t taste, touch, smell, or even see. When you are in love, though, it doesn’t matter if you can see it, because you know it. It doesn’t matter that you can’t sense it because you feel it. And that’s the truth; the true truth, the only truth.
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