Chapter 1

Love - what is it? Is it the said butterflies in your stomach when you think of a person or talk about them, or see them even? Is it the defending of their actions good and bad so they would not leave you and that they could praise your actions for as long as they shall live? Is it something you feel for strangers when you are helping them or is it kissing your mom before bed or school or work even? Is it seen and shown in small gestures like the ones mentioned above? Or is it jumping in front of a train for a person or diving into a pool of acid or whatever the hell a person would do for the sake of the said love?

When you love someone, do you have to always be by their side or do you want them to be reaching for the sky (far, far away from you) - as long as they are happy?

Do you think you have experienced love? Or are you on the way? Do you think it exists? Or do you think it is a hoax to get people to buy books, rings, rent movies or even celebrate valentines day for the financial benefit of it?

I think love is... "Ashley" my mom pulled me out of my thoughts as she called out.

"Ashley, are you coming down? Dinner is ready. Take a break from studying and join us." She did not have to ask me again. I closed my math books - I was not concentrating anyway I was busy thinking about love as you may have noticed and all this thinking did not leave me with the strength to carry on I was too tired (from doing nothing that is).

My mother had prepared simple chicken and rice dinner and it looked delectable and in true teen style I did not feel like sitting on the same table with my family. I had felt that it was better to eat in my room but if I had done it I would not have heard the end of it (I'm sure you know it) if you don't then I think it is better to let you know that I have a mother who's big on family time. Someone at the back of my mind scolded me for being a typical teenager but I brushed her off. She knows my reasons (I would rather not discus them - for now at least ) but she still taunted me about how I feel.

I sat at the table to eat with them - my parents and two sisters. As I ate I wished that my dinners were to just those I saw on television. I wished for someone to ask how my day went and to tell them about it without the fear of them finding me annoying. The problem was not my family at all. I had this deluded idea that everyone had to mould themselves into what others needed them to be and when they failed to do so - they would have to distance themselves from society. I was so cautious of myself that I ended up becoming what I hated most.

You see all the wishing for a family - one I would actually fit in; had left me with a lot and I mean a lot of mistakes but the question was whether or not they could be erased. Could they ever have an effect on my plans? Would they scar me and possibly rid me of the opportunity to be happy? I wondered if I could be perfection. I wanted to loved. I wanted everyone to enjoy - genuinely enjoy my company. To feel disturbed in my absence and in wishing for this I lived life in my head. I did not want to live life through mistakes and not trying at all seemed to be the solution.

I lost so much of myself. I missed myself. I wanted to be happy however it felt as though being happy when you aren't what the world wanted you to be was useless. I had forgotten that "damned if you do damned if you don't" applied in being happy. I ignored the lessons my mother gave me from a young age. She taught me that the voices that mattered were from your family - the only people graced with the honor of being your happy place. I let the world tell me that growing up would mean that they did not matter. I thought that I was looking for love, not necessarily romantic love if that makes sense but platonic love. The love allows you to fart in your sleep and trip on a whole lot of nonsense on a trip to the mall without losing your social status. The love that allowed you to be broke but still feel needed. Love that gave you hope when you failed at what you love after one million times of trying.

I strayed away from it.

I let myself forget about the miracle that is imperfection. The miracle that individuality is. I let myself chase the stars when the moon pulled me out of darkness and emptiness of space but still however let you reach for the sky. It was hard to come out of this place. It was war one I have scars from. One that turned the casualties into trophies. My trophies. It had no rest and quiet nor peace. I barely came out of it.

I tasted victory but the wounds were essential. I needed the darkness to know that the light existed. It was horrible but I got through it but now I ask you to go through it with me. To realise that a journey is made out of a road with potholes. It will feel threatening but I promise that the end is refreshing. I hope that in losing myself you will find yourself and in my team your realise how precious your giggles are.

Now, shall we?