Nine(teen)

13-year-old me thought she had the world behind her
And thought she knew what she held dear
She never anticipated the storm to come

14-year-old me walked in the door with big expectations
Bright smiles, unguarded eyes
For the first day of the rest of her life

15-year-old me was a dreamer
And just like all other 15-year-olds,
She fell for all of the illusions

16-year-old me thought she had all the answers
And thought she knew what would last forever
Only to find that she would miscount the stars

17-year-old me had her illusions shattered
And watched the dark skies many nights,
Starless—lightless; a little bit hopeless

18-year-old me asked a lot of big questions
And set her dreams on fire with the challenge
For the world to watch them burn bright

19-year-old me knows how little she truly knows
Staying up all night, wide awake and dreaming
About the revelations of tomorrow

crazier things have happened

I think first years fall in love so easily because they are perfectly, uniquely set up to do so. Everyone (sort of) went off to university and fell in love (or something vaguely resembling it), and I think I can see why. They move to a new city where they barely know anyone, and they fall in love with nearly perfect strangers and big illusions because they need something to stabilize themselves. They're uniquely vulnerable, and they search and yearn for something to be attached to when everything else has changed. But maybe that's the most innocent kind of love of all; they want nothing more than love itself, which just so happens manifest itself in mystery and charm; wonder and stability; in first times and strangers who just so happen to be in the right place at the right time.

And I speak as if I'm detached, but I'm not. Not in the least. I might still be in the same city, but everything has changed. I am one of them, and that's how I know.

To each other, we are perfect strangers.
To each other, we are perfect.