I’ve grown up. Since the age of 15, I’ve been completely in love with a boy. A boy who has put me through what an 18 year old considers “hell and back.” Love is sweet, an indescribable feeling, and although it causes extreme pain, being in love is totally worth it. The feeling is just that extraordinary. It overrules anything else. I appreciate it, embrace it, and recognize that I am lucky to have come across it because a life without love is incomplete. I’ve resented him for too long but I find it necessary to say that two young kids experienced a love that some never encounter and some older folks yearn for all their life. He was my introduction to a brand new world, a world that many are afraid to enter because of myths and tales passed down from those who misinterpreted it. I believe I know the true meaning of love. I believe everybody should fall in love at least once. That, I believe.
I don’t believe that it is only “a complementary reaction with someone else with compatible Major Histocompability complex configuration.” I can honestly say, I don’t even care to look it up. I don’t believe because I know the real definition of love. I find it unnecessary to take away from such a beautiful emotion by just describing it as a detached and irrelevant chemical interaction. There is more to love. I am in love. I am a lover. I was his lover. A person who says such a thing has either never fallen in love or misinterpreted love. I am a lover. I believe in the true meaning of love- my definition.
I was 15, a young girl who wrote silly entries in her diary, went home, danced in her polka dot underwear after school, did homework, watched MTV, hated her parents, and could only dream of one day finding love. I was 15 and my sophomore year, I decided to express my love for writing by taking a creative writing class with a wonderful educator, Ms. Eligon Jones. I was never too boy crazy but as soon as I walked into that class I noticed him. Unbelievable, I know. We spoke every night. Thursday December 1st, 2008 he went up to do a voluntary open Mic in front of our whole class, our teacher, and friends. It was then that he asked me out on our first date. It was the best day of my life. The next day we ignored the rented film, and spent hours on my couch just talking. It was then I fell in love. It was the year 2005 and although we’ve broken up plenty of times since then, I am still in love.
I watched this boy go away to college that summer. It was heartbreaking. We had a perfect summer but by October, we were having endless absurd fights on the phone. We were young. We didn’t know what else to do. We both chose unhealthy lifestyles but it was all in the effort to make each other happy. I spent months crying hysterically every single night for that boy. He cried too. Call him an actor. Call me an actress. We’re not actors. We were deeply in love, some would say, too deep and too young.
I know what love really means. We’ve broken up but never betrayed each other. We’ve insulted each other but never hit each other. We’ve had uncountable fights but always made up. Today we are not together. After 3 years of being absolutely ridiculous, I can’t help but blame it all on love. It is love which leads to insanity. It is love, which drives a person to try and try over and over despite the obstacles. It is a funny thing called love, which can make a person cry for days even when they have everything they need. It is love, which befriends music when hearts are emotionally impaired. Life works in funny ways; love is the least funny. In fact, it’s the most serious. It is a bittersweet experience but necessary. It is dependency. It is laughter. It is taking the time to make a list of all the things wrong with them to later realize that there are many more things right with them. It is recognizing their scent, their skin, and their touch. Falling in love is just that, falling. We risk it all to fall into the arms of someone we trust. Sometimes we fall too hard, so hard they can’t catch us.
He was my introduction and I await the continuation, the turning of this page left unturned, the beginning of a new chapter, perhaps a new love. It was he, my first love who made it worthwhile. I believe in the power, the strength, the way love can sturdily capture a moment in life, capture your heart when you least expect it and least crave it.
If you enjoyed this essay, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to This I Believe, Inc.