Some say that young love is foolish love. But sometimes, maybe young love is purest love.
When we love what is; everything in front of us.
When we love without a fear and doubt in the world and ourselves. When love is just love.
Trauma makes me forget; and over half a decade of memories continues to resurface in crevices of my room no matter how much I clean.
I’ve gotten accustomed to letting go. I have no problem throwing treasures away and deleting memories of happiness.
But some days it’s nice to remember, that one day long ago, I was once loved. Very much.
One day, long ago, I beamed freely in the halls. I laughed with no shame, rolled down hills of grass, mimicked the ugliest of faces, did the silliest of dances, wore chapstick as makeup, and sweats on my “good” days.
And that was enough.
I was once loved. But one day, I trust that I will meet truest love. Unconditional, healthy, mature love.
When that day comes, I hope I’d remember that I’m enough.