I had the complete teenage experience.
Towards the end of high school, I met a boy who seemed mysterious and wonderfully complex. He looked as if he had a deliciously dramatic life where no one understood him and where his sullen, brooding voice kept getting lost in the crowd.
He played the drums and listened to violent music. And he had lots of goals he wanted to achieve in some glorious far off future.
I was drawn like moth to the proverbial flame.
He wanted to be a rockstar, singer, songwriter, drummer. I wanted to know where he got the confidence from. I mistook ego for maturity.
He was my Three Days Grace phase; I took long nighttime walks in the garden with my music blaring to ‘sort out’ all our problems. And my life was full of drama and complexities and hurt and laughter and pain.
Hey, whoever says teenage love isn’t real love, needs a reality check. Teenage love brings its own suffering – you have to be in it to understand. And once having been there, you should not let yourself forget.
Then my exotic and mysterious relationship took a dramatic plunge. And I don’t mean a jump. I mean a losing-control-of-the-car-and-it-skids-and-crashes-off-a-mountain-and-rolls-to-the-jagged-rocks-below. That is what happened.
His complicated ways and deep emotions became too much to handle and at one point there was too much grief for there to be any love left.
And then one day I woke up to find that the love was gone. The feeling that made me attach myself to him had quietly packed its bags and tiptoed out at some point during the night. I felt free.
I broke his heart once. And never looked back.
Okay maybe that’s not entirely true. I looked back, but my feet stayed planted forward.
And maybe at some point in the future, I’ll write about the love I found later. The kind of love that doesn’t need flash powder and smoke screens. The kind of boy…man, that is sunny days and endless skies and green grass. The kind of love where pain is only a whisper, and even then, is silenced in a millisecond. The kind of man that doesn’t need to be mysterious in order to be interesting. He is my best friend, and he is me, and I him.
No, that is too close to the heart.
Hey teenage me, you pulled through.