Memoir by alarminglytired
Love, as the dictionaries and movies would have you believe, often bursts forth in vivid colors—grand gestures and epic romances that leave an imprint on the heart. It’s the soft brush of lips, the quickening heartbeat, and those fireworks that make you forget where you parked your car. For years, my understanding of love was painted with the broad strokes of scripted lines from romantic comedies, ones I thought I could recite without missing a beat. But everything changed when I met her in junior high.
From the moment I laid eyes on her, I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, jumping from our favorite gacha life songs to whimsical dreams of owning a cozy house together one day. Those seven years transformed her from a mere friend into my confidante, my partner in crime—the one who challenged me, nudged me toward growth. “Love,” as I would come to know it, blossomed in the laughter we shared, the way her quick wit and artistic air brought light into my life. One moment, she had me rolling on the floor with laughter, and the next, we were deep in discussion about how this character stole the spotlight in her favorite series.
In her presence, I discovered a truth that transcended the conventional notions of love. It isn’t merely about romantic entanglements or dramatic declarations. Love is the unwavering support of someone who sees you at your worst and still believes in the best within you. So when someone asked me, “What is love?”, I found myself answering her name without hesitation. When a stranger
remarked on the way I looked at her, claiming it was as if she were a star in the sky, I chuckled quietly. The truth was far deeper—I looked at her as if the universe itself began and ended with her.
Love is the girl I met seven years ago in junior high school. Love is my friend, Jasmine.
Discover more from SeaGlass Literary
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
