At 18, love came in every form. We were rebellious, courageous, hurt and scarred but still gorgeous. At 18, we dreamed and did the impossible and love came crossing every boundaries set by the minds of adults who said we can’t do it. At 18, we acknowledged that the only valuable lesson we learned from school is the English alphabet. So when we broke hearts at 18, we could use it to form an apology. Or when we wanted to be broken, we could use it to beg them of love. At 18, when our lovers stabbed us in the belly and the doctor asked us to localize our pain and we forgot our anatomy because something inside our chest hurt more than the knife tip in our belly. At 18, we slit wrists, we skipped schools, we didn’t give half shits to grades or society. But at 18, we realized we’d grown up in a flash. Because at 18, we held hands, we fell down and we got back up again. At 18, we learned unconditional love through bitter hatred, we learned gain through loss, we learned compassion, kindness, forgiveness and to rise above every petty things that weigh us down. At 18, we cried, we begged for death, we passed sleepless nights, we lived on sleeping pills and psychedelic drugs. But by the next morning, we dreamed again, we wiped every tear off our faces, we laced our shoes and wore our heels.
At 18, love came in every form. The good and the bad. But still at 18, we hoped that at 25, everything would come in the form of love.