For a while, I thought I was in love. Looking back at it though, I wasn't. It was more of an idea in my mind, telling me I needed him. Saying, don't let go. Even though I was hurt all of the time. I just couldn't. He was playing with my mind and heart. He was the worst thing for me, and i'm so happy I finally learned to leave.
Yes I have loved. But, I don't think I have truly been "in love." What is love anyway? To me, it's a -Once Upon A Time- story, in a children's book.
I think until I fall head over heals, madly and passionately in love with someone, then I just won't be able to believe in love.
It was the middle of February and it was snowing. He took me outside to wait for my ride. We stood there holding each other and looking into each others eyes.
We knew it was going to happen, but we were both too afraid to do it. We'd get closer then back off a bit. I'd giggle to try and hide my nerves. He just kept shining that perfect smile. Until finally he leaned in, and I followed. Our lips touched. It was a little kiss, but I loved every minute of it.
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