When I was 17 I fell in love with a boy who was a very wonderful friend to me. We’d known each other for a long time and were friends with the same people. We hung out alot, and we always had so much fun. At the beginning of the year he had helped me through a break-up and this just brought us closer together. But he had a girlfriend and we never acted like anything other than good friends should. He fell for me first, and it scared the shit outta me. We hung out with each other every sunday, playing buzz junior with our friends and nursing our hangovers from the nights before. Sunday quickly became the best day of my week and I couldn’t tell you why. One Saturday night I got quite drunk and ended up in a really bad situation. All I could think was “I need him here. Now.” So I txt him, and he came and got me :) Then suddenly he was single and his feelings for me became alot more obvious. But still I ran away. The next week was my 18th birthday, and when I was extremely drunk, he decided to tell me he was in love with me. All I could reply was “Oh.” The next week came round and suddenly it was our sunday again, and this time we were all alone. We sat on my bed and I ranted on about my weekend and what my friends had been doing/saying and every single thought that was inside of me until I ran out of things to say. After a little bit of silence he leaned over and kissed me, and it was the most amazing electrical kiss of my entire life. Then he leaned back and said “Chelsea, I love you.” And I said “I love you too.” And two and a half magical years later, through endless ups and downs, we still belong to each other. I have had my fair share of heart break, but I swear I am the luckist girl you’ll ever meet.
two and a half years, oh my god! good luck in the future (: <3
This reminds me of something. ;]
It’s obviously not exactly the same, but there are some parts that are similar. =]
“Lori was about as different as it was possible to be in Welch. While almost all the other kids wore jeans, Converse sneakers, and T-shirts, she showed up at school in army boots, a white dress with red polka dots, and a jean jacket with dark poetry she’d painted on the back. The other kids threw bars of soap at her, pushed one another into her path, and wrote graffiti about her on the bathroom walls. In return, she cursed them out in Latin.”—The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls (pg. 223)