At three years old, love came to me in the form of a security blanket; Bun Bun I named it, always carrying its bunny ears in my tiny balled up fists. It had my name monogrammed on its heart, or at least that’s what my mother told me. My eyes that were just a little too big for my face couldn’t formulate letters into words yet, so I just took my mother’s word as truth because I loved it. That wouldn’t be the last time I did that; blindly put faith in things or people I loved. Love left when my red-roofed house ignited with one swift lightning bolt. All that was found in the rubble was my sister’s copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and a severely charred copy of my mom’s favorite Christmas movie. My name was lost within licks of flames, crushed into nothing but ashes. Three year olds rebound quickly, therefore my first heartbreak didn’t sting for too long.
Love visited again at five, not too long after the last. I had a pink tut that I was given. It was the embodiment of me in a piece of clothing; pink, sparkly, made of tulle. I wore it every day; to school, birthday parties, outside with friends. So many holes were shred into it, but I wore it despite that, despite the flaws. My mom couldn’t stand to see me adorning something so tattered. She threw it away. That heartbreak hurt a little more, but again, nothing unbearable. I got new clothes, and my world was right again.
Infatuation took over love’s place for a while. My attention was focused on small things and people for years and years; boys I was convinced I’d marry in the fourth grade, fads I fell obsessed with, exotic animals I was destined to own. The typical trials and tribulations of elementary school. These were all just quick bursts of what I assumed was love, but wasn’t mature enough to realize wasn’t. I never wish I realized then it wasn’t love though. Having a sense of false “love” when you’re young is better than nothing. There’s things to look forward to and excited for. Being self-aware at the ripe age of ten doesn’t bode well, especially when your near future of high school is overflowing with that as well. Ignorance is bliss. Being in love and ignorant is a luxury. You only get that a handful of times.
// woah the end! haha I’m for sure NOT done with that, but that’s what I’ve conjured up so far. Hope you guys eNjOyEd!!!!
I absolutely adore this. Please finish!! you can do it!
Rip i still sleep with my security blanket,,,,, its older than I am.
I hope you’ll finish this eventually! I wanna read more of it later on.