Young love they called it. Puppy love. Just *cute* and all those demeaning terms to show that we were too young in our years to understand or feel how love works and is.

Because we had not yet *lived* the lives they knew would pass, we were too young to say “I love you”. We were too naive to think we connected, too immature to think we would never meet anyone to surpass these feelings.

Well, I just want to give the big heave ho’ to those old stereotypes that they tried to fit around our necks. I know even now, people would shake their heads and tell me I have yet to learn a lot, I have yet to live my life. But alas, I don’t care.

I met you when I was twelve. We loved each other then, we loved at thirteen, fourteen, fifteen sixteen etc.. we are now twenty and twenty one. Still young, still naive, still immature. I won’t deny ANY of that. But I will never admit to the falsity that is that I don’t love you. I am in love with you, and I’ve known it since eighth grade. And it is the one thing in my life that makes sense day in and day out. Regardless of society, of other people we’ve met, of changing times, everything in our lives. Nothing means more, or makes more sense to me than the love I hold for you and the love you hold for me.

See we may have *a lot to live and learn* yet but we are doing it *together* and that is the difference. We’ve seen our life apart. And it is nothing I want to live.

I love you wholly and immaturely and with my tender twenty years. And I say FUCK YOU to the norm.