love at sixteen.

When she met him, she was 16, still battling her own mind and fighting the world at the same time. The wars raging inside her were as constant as the wars being waged in the world. She was undecided on the course of her life and she was still trying to find out who she was. She had never truly loved or been loved. 

So when she met him, and he opened doors for her,

And paid for her meals, 

And walked to her door to meet her mother instead of honking his car horn,

And went to church with her, 

And prayed for her and with her,

And took her to meet his parents,

And refused to treat her with anything but the utmost respect,

And asked her to hang out during the day rather than at 11 at night,

And told her she was beautiful inside and out,

When he proved himself to be a good man,

She felt things she never had before. She felt this jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach when she saw him in the school hallways walking towards her. And she felt herself become short of breath when he kissed her on the cheek in front of everyone because he wasn’t ashamed of her. And she felt her palms become sweaty when he told her she looked beautiful everyday. And she felt her heart swell when they cuddled together with her head on his chest, lips pressing soft kisses into her hair. She had never felt these things before and she had to wonder,

Is this love?

A gentleman was someone she had never known before, for the one man who was supposed to love her her whole life had left before she could even say the word “dad.” And being an only child meant there was never an older brother to look out for her and make sure she was on the right path. The only love she’s known was from her mother who tried her damn best to give her daughter the world. 

What she was feeling: the jitters, the shortness of breath, the sweaty palms, the heart swelling, this was first love. This was the boy she’d never forget. This was the boy she’d compare every future boy with. This was the boy who set her standards. This was the love that would hurt the most. 

But despite the inevitable pain she was bound to feel (because yes, this was all going to hurt like hell and no, this probably wasn’t going to work out), she loved him with all she could. She loved him with her whole heart and then some. She loved him with everything she had because this was her first love and she’ll be damned if she didn’t savor these feelings, didn’t enjoy these feelings, didn’t relish in these feelings, despite the pain the future may hold. 

  • m.f.
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Don’t trust poets,we’re no good, we love pretending that our jagged edges tantamount to a beautiful disaster, but in reality – there ain’t nothing beautiful about shaky hands holding a cigarette and empty eyes staring at the cracks in the walls.

Love

Love has been redefined by our culture. A culture that is engrained in selfishness. A culture that tells you that life is a mad rush to get all that you can and get it when you want it. This cultural attitude has trained our minds to think that love is something that gets us what we want. That love is there for our pleasure and that we should get something for ourselves from love. Teens and young adults often pass by the idea that love is a feeling rather than an action. Love is not sexual pleasure, anytime with anyone. Love is not using a person to get what you want. Love is mutual. Love is an emotional feeling one gets when he sees a beautiful girl in his 4th period. Love is the desire to have someone in your life to turn to in a time of crisis. Someone you trust with your life, someone who is always there to lift you up. Someone who lends their shoulder whenever you need someone to lean on. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love isn’t selfish, and never has been. Love is selfless. One should ask not what a loving relationship can do for them, but what they can do to strengthen the relationship and make the other person better.

  • guest writer

dreams>reality. 

You were in my dreams again last night.

You always seem to be in my dreams these days. 

It’s funny

Because when we were together,

I don’t remember dreaming of you,

But maybe that’s because my dreams had come true

And I was with you everyday,

Loving, laughing, learning, living.

But now,

Now that I made the mistake of letting you go,

The universe decides to punish me every night

With images of what we could’ve been

And replays of what we had been

And possibilities of what we should’ve been.

I cannot blame the universe 

For you haunting my dreams. 

I can only blame myself. 

Because every morning when I wake up 

From another dream,

Another world where we’re still together

And I didn’t screw up and you still loved me,

I go through my day 

Looking forward to putting my head back on my pillow

So my mind can take me away from this place where I have to see you everyday 

And know that I cannot touch you anymore,

Where I have to listen to you everyday 

And know that you aren’t speaking to me,

Where I have to look at you laugh

And know that I am not the reason for it,

Where there is no us. 

My dreams have become my favorite place,

Because when I’m asleep anything is possible.

You were in my dreams again last night,

And I wouldn’t be surprised if we met again the next time I close my eyes.
– m.f.

All Our Lives

She found him when she wasn’t looking. When she was walking down the stream of life, she looked beside here and there he was, drifting along, same as she was. Only he seemed to be vibrating. As if he was experiencing anything and everything that life had to offer and life wasn’t holding anything back. When she met him, she discovered that he was not just one person and he was not living just one life. He was hundreds of different people, living thousands of different lives, experiencing millions of different things. He had bits and pieces of everyone he loved and everyone who loved him inside and he was so damn beautiful. He wasn’t much to look at, but to think about? She could spend days on end just thinking about him. And so she fell, giving pieces of herself and pieces of her life to add to his. Never stopping to wonder if he felt the same, but do not fear, for he did. 

The first time she noticed him, he left all of his friends to sit with the kid no one cared to talk to. The first time he noticed her was when she gave a speech to the school about how important it is to love yourself and to save someone, even if it’s just you. No one else listened that day, but he did. 

She knew she liked him when he gave his textbooks to a girl whose parents simply could not afford it. He borrowed someone else’s for the rest of the year. He knew he liked her when she forgave the boy who broke her heart without thinking. She shouldn’t have, he didn’t deserve it, but she did it nonetheless. 

They knew they loved each other when they looked into the other’s eyes and saw themselves. Better. Brighter. Stronger. 

She knew he would break her heart the day he told her he was dying. The damn chemo treatments didn’t work and the cancer no one knew he had began to spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He knew he would break his own heart the day he saw the light fade from her eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving and he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her. 

He broke her heart the day he left. No warning, no goodbye, just an empty body with nothing left to love. And the pieces of her were still with him. Pieces she would never get back, pieces she didn’t want back because they were his, wholly and completely. Her heart began to ache less when she saw bits of him in the people that he loved. In the people that loved him. His friends were kind and his mother was strong and she shined with a light that could only be given when one had seen real, true love. He had left, but he was not gone. Pieces of him were still in the world, leaving a trail of goodness wherever they went. And she was determined to show the world that the boy she loved was not gone, and would never be. 

The pieces of the people we love are with us always. We are not one person, but a million. We are every person we’ve ever loved and who has loved us stitched together and held inside a body that is meant to live more than just one life. Go live it. 

  • e.o.

Heartbreak

Why does heartbreak last so long?

It’s been months since it happened but she still has moments where her mind wanders. Times she thinks about him again. Times she breaks down. Times she cries. She doesn’t give a damn about him anymore but he’s still there, at the back of her mind, nagging at her. He’s there when she meets someone new. When she wears the shirt that was his favorite. When she writes. He’s even there in her dreams. She’s moved on, but the thousand tiny fissures in her heart ache every time she does something that reminds her of him. She doesn’t know why and she doesn’t know how to make it stop.

This is what she does know: she knows she loves the smell of coffee in the morning, and the way the sun comes in through her window. She loves the moon and the stars and how quickly a bad night can turn to a good one with the right people. She loves how, for the few moments after she wakes up, she can think about absolutely nothing. She knows that the injustice in the world makes her heart ache more than the cracks he put in her heart. She knows she would do anything to save someone from themselves or the world or even all of humanity if she had to. She knows that the world is the hardest place to live, and if she can just make it out alive, she did alright. She knows that even though the chasms in her heart twinge with pain, cuts and bruises and scars only go to show that she has lived and she is alive.

Why does heartbreak last so long? Because once it doesn’t, you are free. From everything.

  • e.o.

You left me.

You left my crying helplessly every night because you just didn’t want to say it to my face.

You left me with self doubt.

You left me when I couldn’t find the light in myself.

But here I am.

Here I am thanking God you left me.

Here I am realizing I didn’t deserve that.

And here I am knowing that you didn’t deserve me.

-fadedthoughtts, moving on