Young love, I never saw it coming until that random bus ride back from my mother’s hometown.
I thought it only exists in Nicholas Sparks’s novels. And that they become movies instead of my own reality. I thought it’s only shared between Romeo and Juliet or can only be read between the lines of the Sweet Flicks on Star Movies. I guess now it’s not just a story that I get to hear among my friends or a love song played on the radio. It’s not a poem that I wrote about my past and my exes. It’s not just a breakfast at Mcdonald’s. And it’s most definitely not the same as fantasizing One Direction from t-shirts, posters, and albums.
Young love wakes me up stronger than morning coffee. It gave me a reason to have a relationship with Wifi and my phone. It uses adorable stickers on Facebook Messenger. It smiles and settles on the crappy, pixelated, and choppy Skype video calls. It puts me to sleep, sometimes it doesn’t. It sends messages and songs between the category of sweet and corny. And it always fails in attempting to wake me up at 3 in the morning.
It’s on the world clock that I get to look at like a manic student waiting for dismissal. It patiently waits for me to get my homework done and gives motivation on Statistics exams.
It’s on the world map posted against the bedroom wall, where I trace the distance from where he’s at to my heart.
It makes plans when the gap finally closes in from computer screens to meeting each other eye to eye.
And it writes our love story in the chapters of 2014 and hopefully to forever. So it may not only stay as young and as in love as we are, but in time, grow as we would have.
Confessions of a teenage ambivert 