17 going on 35 - that's how I feel; a grown-up teenage. Older on the outside than on the inside, almost growing younger as I age. Young and old at the same time, a young adult with an ancient soul.
I know I am an old soul, that I (partly) chose to come back to this life to learn to just live. To learn to love, break down the barriers to my heart and finally be healed, thorougly and completely. I pray that I will find that love, that I will allow myself to be loved in the same way that I love - unconditionally, in deep colour.
It feels funny, this teenager thing. Like I'm finally waiting for that big first love, the all-encompassing love, passionate, consuming, the one that will change my emotional makeup forever. I feel like I'm waiting to experience love as reborn, as the person I've turned into. To turn a new leaf, break through the chrysalis and spread my wings like a butterfly.
I long to be recklessly, hopelessly infatuated, to feel my heart flutter at the thought of him, to feel my stomach full of butterflies, to feel my knees buckle when he brushes my hair aside and kisses that soft spot on my throat just below the ear.
I want him to make me go crazy with desire, waves of passion rippling through our bodies, our hearts beating in unison. Forever young at heart.
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