It was a humid August afternoon, cars zooming by and people of all sorts roaming about under the sun. I could feel her gentle hand wrapped around mine as we walked together, the warmth of our palms as they touched. In spite the heat, neither of us wanted to let go. We were in our own little world, a world far away from the busy roads and the loud populance. Nothing else mattered as long as we were still together.
You might argue that thinking like that is negligent or immature, but that's what young love is like. You don't have to worry about keeping a roof over your head or filling your belly, your biggest worry most likely being her parents giving you nasty glares whenever you knock on her door.
I still remember our first kiss last October. We were behind a portable at our school, neither of us really knew what we were doing as it was our first time. Still, as I ran my fingers through her silky hair and looked down at her smiling at me with that tender smile that girls have when they're overcome with joy, I knew deep down that we were meant to be.
We were outside a local Starbucks now, slurping cold drinks and enjoying each-other's company. We talked about our favorite shows or movies we'd like to see and giggled at each-other's jokes no matter how stupidly unfunny they got, as is common with most couples. I couldn't stop looking at her the entire time we spoke, at her rosy cheecks and her eyes; as vivid and blue as the ocean depths but just as easy to get lost in. I've seen all sorts of beutiful girls throughout my lifetime, mind you, but staring into those eyes of hers were all it took forget every last one of them. And then, it happened. Before I could utter another world, she placed her hand on mine and said the three words I've been waiting to hear all of my life. "I love you"
"Just another dream" I thought with my eyes half-open, looking up at the ceiling. I was in my room, surrounded by four walls, blankets, and a rectangular window near my bedside. No Starbucks, no girl, and no love.
I've been having this dream for years now, and each and every time it would end the same, with me waking up and realizing that that's all it will ever be: a dream.
I was never meant to live a normal life you see, I was never meant to move out of the house and start a family like my siblings. If anything, the very idea of a girl wanting to talk to me is something unreal to me, a personal fairy tale if you will. All of my life, I see love everwhere: in movies, television shows, books, and of course the young couples I see whenever I walk out the door; the very sight of them makes me want to hang myself. So naturally, seeing this supposedly wonderful and invaluable thing everywhere makes me want to experience it for myself. But alas, I cannot; as apparently when I was born god decided that I'll die alone, never so much as hugging a girl during my entire life. As months passed I've prayed every night for some kind of sign that there's still hope for me, but I've received nothing. Everyone I know tells me that things could get better, (Will they tell me the same in twenty years, I wonder? Or when I'm fifty years old?) but I know they're simply trying to cheer me up. When I was in middle school I thought it would get better, when I was in high school I thought it would get better, and now as I get older and more knowledgable of how the world works, I've completely given up. I've stopped showering, changing my clothes, cutting my nails, generally caring how I look or what happens to me. Because honestly, what's the point of living life when you've got no-one to share it with? Nobody to grow old with and share memories as our grandchildren run around the house.
Believe me, I've tried not think about it, to distract myself with video games or other things I enjoyed, but the fear won't go away. The fear that I'm wasting my future and my youth, and that one day I'll move on from this world with nothing but sadness and regret to carry with me.
You might argue that thinking like that is negligent or immature, but that's what young love is like. You don't have to worry about keeping a roof over your head or filling your belly, your biggest worry most likely being her parents giving you nasty glares whenever you knock on her door.
I still remember our first kiss last October. We were behind a portable at our school, neither of us really knew what we were doing as it was our first time. Still, as I ran my fingers through her silky hair and looked down at her smiling at me with that tender smile that girls have when they're overcome with joy, I knew deep down that we were meant to be.
We were outside a local Starbucks now, slurping cold drinks and enjoying each-other's company. We talked about our favorite shows or movies we'd like to see and giggled at each-other's jokes no matter how stupidly unfunny they got, as is common with most couples. I couldn't stop looking at her the entire time we spoke, at her rosy cheecks and her eyes; as vivid and blue as the ocean depths but just as easy to get lost in. I've seen all sorts of beutiful girls throughout my lifetime, mind you, but staring into those eyes of hers were all it took forget every last one of them. And then, it happened. Before I could utter another world, she placed her hand on mine and said the three words I've been waiting to hear all of my life. "I love you"
"Just another dream" I thought with my eyes half-open, looking up at the ceiling. I was in my room, surrounded by four walls, blankets, and a rectangular window near my bedside. No Starbucks, no girl, and no love.
I've been having this dream for years now, and each and every time it would end the same, with me waking up and realizing that that's all it will ever be: a dream.
I was never meant to live a normal life you see, I was never meant to move out of the house and start a family like my siblings. If anything, the very idea of a girl wanting to talk to me is something unreal to me, a personal fairy tale if you will. All of my life, I see love everwhere: in movies, television shows, books, and of course the young couples I see whenever I walk out the door; the very sight of them makes me want to hang myself. So naturally, seeing this supposedly wonderful and invaluable thing everywhere makes me want to experience it for myself. But alas, I cannot; as apparently when I was born god decided that I'll die alone, never so much as hugging a girl during my entire life. As months passed I've prayed every night for some kind of sign that there's still hope for me, but I've received nothing. Everyone I know tells me that things could get better, (Will they tell me the same in twenty years, I wonder? Or when I'm fifty years old?) but I know they're simply trying to cheer me up. When I was in middle school I thought it would get better, when I was in high school I thought it would get better, and now as I get older and more knowledgable of how the world works, I've completely given up. I've stopped showering, changing my clothes, cutting my nails, generally caring how I look or what happens to me. Because honestly, what's the point of living life when you've got no-one to share it with? Nobody to grow old with and share memories as our grandchildren run around the house.
Believe me, I've tried not think about it, to distract myself with video games or other things I enjoyed, but the fear won't go away. The fear that I'm wasting my future and my youth, and that one day I'll move on from this world with nothing but sadness and regret to carry with me.
You also seem to have been blackpilled for some years.
