and somewhere in the back of my head you've been playing on loop like a record machine that has the power to cast butterflies around my stomach that feel as if they were the size of my smile each time your name arrived on my phone and lit up my lonely walk home. Through my years of being here and feeling these kind of things, I, no we have all experienced that feeling of liking someone we know we shouldn't simply because age defines who we can and can not be with or maybe its because our needy friend thinks that well she introduced us so she has the power to say we can not be even when it was her that had led to my first real broken heart from casting words of her spell into my eager ears, creating a lie that ate my heart away till all that remained was my whimper of stay. But then it happened again, the late night talking, to not wanting to sleep cause sleep meant breaking away from you, of closing my eyes and thinking of when you would reply or just drop in a simple hello into my little world of dreaming of love. At the age of seventeen I thought love was that rush of excitement that would cause tear stained cheeks to lift into a smile, even when that smile was there to trick the one I thought I loved into believing that even though I knew he was lying that I didn't, that each word he said was registered as a truth that was really causing my heart to form cracks that would later stop the idea of love from entering my life again, and yes love does hurt and if it didn't would we know if it was real or not? cause now at eighteen I still question that, I question whether we played spin the bottle to kiss the person we thought we were destined to grow old with or to the mend the thought that one day we will become old and all of this, all of what we though we would be would become only mist as we grew old and alone wondering why happy ever after never came in the form of a knight in shining armour who like the story save us. was it because our hair didn't blow from the window of a tower as we stayed hidden from the world but yet love could find us? or was it because with each bottle we cracked open we were more open, open to spill our thoughts on how one person managed to break our hearts with their actions and words as if we were a prototype of a fairy tale, one that just couldn't reach that perfect ending? I still don't believe in love, even as your name flashes across my screen, causing the butterflies to return, I had been broken on to many times and yet, even though I know the story as it repeats its self in the form of another person, I fall again as if he created the sun just to shine on me and I'd like to believe in such things, but such things are not so.
