“I don’t know what love feels like.”
“Maybe I could teach you.”
It never crossed my mind that emotions could be a privilege, but in this day and age, it becomes increasingly plausible. I’ve been fortunate enough to know love, but as the years pass, it seems to drift further away, slipping out of reach — at least, romantic love. Perhaps a more accurate sentiment would be:
“I don’t remember what love feels like.”
Then again, I can’t even recall what happiness feels like. I understand how to simulate happiness, but I’ve never truly felt it — much like love.
I grasp the concept of love and happiness — the gestures, the connection, the laughter — but mere understanding falls short of the profound depth that comes with truly experiencing it.
I’ve never quite understood the tradition of making a wish before blowing out birthday candles. In my experience, those wishes were nothing more than fleeting fantasies, dissipating like the smoke that curls up from the extinguished flames. Yet, in seven days, I will turn 19, and my wish remains unchanged: to finally feel happiness. It may sound simplistic, almost mundane, but it’s what I truly desire. I long to feel that warmth again, to experience the joy that used to come so naturally.
