Just writing for fun: stories of my own, stories of others, stories that come to mind. The story of a dreamy, silly girl growing into an unreliable artsy young woman. No sadness, just melancholy... Written at the end of college, for Watermelon. During our time together, I never became part of your circle, and I never asked you to become part of mine. I laughed and said I wanted you to marry me, and you laughed and said, "Sure, as long as you're willing to marry me." You said it so convincingly that I believed you, and my tears couldn't help but well up.
I hid you so carefully. I didn't tell my best friends, roommates, cousins, or anyone. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to marry you someday. I was afraid you'd be gone the moment I turned around. I was afraid we had no future. But how I wished I could shout, "I love you! Wait for me, I'm going to marry you!" But I was afraid that if I said it, happiness would leave too. Why does my love always have to go without anyone's blessing? So I decided that was fine, even without their blessing. I kept you in my heart, where at least no one could tell me to leave you.
I had a blast whenever I went out, then came home looking for your embrace. I knew it wasn't there, but I still wanted to steal a little comfort from it. You were so far away. I cried as I put on a smiling face and whispered sweet nothings, holding tightly to this love that had no one's blessing. I kept murmuring to myself that it was okay, that there was nothing to fear. But as the time to leave you drew closer, as I looked at the little happiness in our photo album, and at the pages with not a single word about you, I quietly began to write. A few stories, a few thoughts about life, a few dreams.
Where should the story begin? Back in those green years of youth, with that girl, her cheeks tinged with the rosy glow of adolescence.
