I wish I was 14 again.

When did I stop believing in true love? When did I stop being dreamy and full of hope?

The right question should probably start with “why?” .

I turned 20 last week and as I was going through the books that I could read now, the realisation hit me. When was the last time I have read a love story, and absolutely loved it. The answer was — 6 years back. It was 6 years back that I was so in love with …..love. only because it was still undiscovered by me. To a 14 year old me love could be miraculous, it could be disastrous. It could be the soft waves of the sea touching your feet leaving the part of the sand wet from its touch, or it could be a tsunami, wrecking lives, homes and hearts. This is what I miss. Pondering over the endless possibilities that one emotion could bring. Reading a childish, raw love story, without being judged for reading a book so “immature” . Watching movies that could make me cry out happy tears. Falling for every other guy I spoke to. This is what I miss. The endless possibilities that lay before me, when I was 14.

I would long to grow up, thinking that I would be something worthwhile, I would have a career worth looking forward to, I would be in love and it would be easy to be so.

And then life happened. Actually, is still happening now. I’m not complaining , but maybe, just maybe, it could slow down a bit. Just for a while. Allow me to find myself, to rediscover the 14 year old in me. Cater to what she needed and to be enthusiastic again about anything and everything.

I wish to pour a little more life, into my life.