I feel as though I’ve entered the summer of my life. A happy, warm and foolishly optimistic chapter that I can ruefully remember when I’m older and far less oblivious.
Yesterday, I walked the aisles of my local supermarket. A supermarket I had been dragged through far to many times before. I knew the aisles like the skin that wrinkles around my knuckles, but this time I was entwined in the kind embrace of a boy. We swung our hands back and forth and laughed when we passed the shelf that stores the condoms. The day was bleak and rainy, the hours ticking by, towards that dusk limbo time. And everything felt different.
Everything felt easy and comfortable. My soul had finally stopped fluttering and flinging itself against the cavity’s of my cerebral. Screaming at me to find a place where I felt at peace.
I know that it is stupid to believe that this is a glimpse at what the rest of my life could look like, but I think that’s the magic of being young. If I want to fall hopelessly in love, then fall to my knees as my heart shatters into a million pieces when we drift apart, why not?
One of the blessings of adolescence is the fact that we don’t really experience life in mediation, and if we do we’re doing it wrong. In this summer, I want to embrace the spectrum and live bipolar, at both ends only. I’m to young and my time is slipping by too quickly to attempt to live my life in the middle.
So let me fall in love. Let me fall even further out of it. Let me plan my wedding one day and swear off boys altogether the next day. Let me want to run away from home and explore the world under my own steam. Let me also cry myself to sleep some nights because I haven’t even left yet and I already miss my mum and dad. Let me feel sexy in lace undies but obsess over how a certain singlet shows off the little bulge of armpit fat too much.
Let me live as a contradiction.
Let me live as only the young and reckless can.