Love

NOTE: This post is about my High School fleeting thoughts. The me right now is still at the moving on phase. Let’s get one thing straight: if you’re a teenage guy, you’ve probably thought this at least once. For me, it wasn’t just a passing thought—it became an obsession. And it all started in my first year of high school. But here’s the kicker: reality doesn’t care about your obsessions. It’s a cruel mistress, and she made sure I knew it. In almost every way, I was (and still am, let’s be honest) painfully average. My looks? Nothing to write home about. Athleticism? Let’s just say I wasn’t exactly the star of the soccer team. Skills? Remarkable? Ha. And while my grades were decent, that was only because I had plenty of time to study. ...

It all began in the most ordinary of places—a high school auditorium on a warm evening. I was assisting with a singing audition for a school event, tasked with calling out participants’ names as they took their turn on stage. One by one, I read from the list, until I reached a name that would unknowingly change everything: Jasmine. She walked up to the stage wearing a simple white T-shirt and jeans, her presence unassuming yet magnetic. When she sang, her voice had a unique quality—soft but full of potential. Unfortunately, her song choice didn’t quite suit her voice, but something about her stayed with me. Maybe it was the way she carried herself or the way our eyes briefly met. It was just a fleeting moment, a glance between strangers, but little did I know, it was the prologue to a story that would unfold over the next two years. ...