I was young, real young. To young to know what “love” is.
It started with a simple game of kickball in my backyard. She was a private school kid, a catholic school girl and I was public school boy. (Need I say more)
Then there was a golden girl, with her golden hair. She was into popularity, and I couldn’t get into the circle.
Next was the closest thing to “love” I thought I found, so I did what everyone does. Leave. She was breathtaking, her laugh was contiguous, she could do no wrong.
Then I left the best for the worst. A liar, cheater and a true con artist. She was what everyone wanted, she made sense…on paper.
Fifth was the mom. When it was bad, it was awful. She was a drug I got high on. A rollercoaster of emotions, that were either high or low.
Lastly, was the one. That turned my….”she was” lines, into “she is” lines.
I’m old now, real old. To old to know which “love” was “love”.