|0| PROLOGUE |
I was in kindergarten when I had my first glimpse of love.
Well, I didn’t know what it was in the beginning, and it seemed like every girl in my class was flirtatiously laughing when a boy with mud stained uniform and spaghetti smeared cheek came passing by. In my defense, when you’re in kindergarten that’s equivalent to the “hot-bad-boy” everyone seems to be drooling on nowadays, but thinking about it now and seeing all the kids in the playground just a block from here, all I could think of is “YUCK”.
So there I was practically head over heels with Damien Smithson because he had this typical boy-next-door look and had less spaghetti on his cheek. Every single time Damien would pass by, I would flip my hair to the back so that he’d… I don’t know, smell it? I was young and naïve but was crossing my fingers that he’d love the smell of my strawberry scented shampoo.
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Unfortunately, I was also in kindergarten when I knew what it felt to have your heart broken.
Apparently, Damien decided that Sabrina, the one with the perfect straight blonde hair and fluffier pink ballet tutu, had cooler cheeks than me. So there he was on his tippy toes as he kissed the girl who was a foot taller than him only to end up accidentally pushed by someone right straight into the muddy puddle. So much for my "hot-bad-boy". If only he realized that he wouldn't have a hard time struggling to keep his failing balance if he chose to kiss me instead.
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I wish there was a rulebook for love -some kind of instruction booklet to tell you the dos and don’ts- or a map to tell you which way to go after you’ve reached a stop.
I wish I had my own fairy godmother who would let me experience what a fairytale would feel like. Even just a happy ending. Or a mother who’d comfort me and say that there’s more to life than shampoos, tutus, and Damien Smithson.
But really, how can you say that you are in love and not just loving the idea of love. The thin line that separates both seems to get blurry everytime you fall head first.
The truth about love is that it’s a four letter word for “Here’s my heart, my soul, and a hammer, have fun breaking them” or “Have fun at the movies! You’re lucky to have the front row seats to the breaking of my heart.”
Because reality seems to know its way around each dreaming heart. And it lets you realize there are no Love for Dummies, fairy godmothers, happy endings, and you cannot expect every girl to have a parent who’d say so. And most importantly, reality lets you know that Damien Smithson is a boy who’s allergic to strawberries all along.
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They say, love is a strange thing. It's about giving a part of you -if not all of you- to someone who has the power to break it, but at the same time you're trusting them not to.
Two strangers in movies somehow end up in love for an hour and a half, and fictional characters in books either live happily ever after or not at all. And it seems like every question to such a fleeting idea has been explored by everything under the sun...except for one.
"What happens when the only man you love never actually existed?"
Love is the strangest thing, indeed.
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BEHIND THE SCENES (under revision)
General Fiction"When we have been listening to lies all our life, it's hard to distinguish them from the truth. But sometimes, we are also too desperate for something real that we turn lies into something believable... only to end up realizing that if something ne...
