Teenagers’ confessions – How feelings hit me like a truck

first love
Do you remember the first time your neurons took a dopamine overdose and you suddenly couldn’t remember who you were? Every principle you possessed had been stomped? The first butterflies in your stomach, the first inexplicable goosebumps, the first messages that  you had sent even though you knew you’d end up regretting come tomorrow morning? Do you remember how feelings hit you like a truck?

We do as well…

In this edition of our confessions, our colleagues have stepped a little out of their comfort zone and realised they can openly talk about death but find it hard to talk when it comes to love.

Humans – beings that run after love and acceptance. I’m like that as well, in a perpetual existential marathon.
I’ve always thought that love is a vague and hilarious concept, just like death, that it’s subjective, pure and simple, that we induce it ourselves, but… Somebody appeared, some time ago, who turned my thoughts upside down and lit up every fragment of my body. Suddenly, everything made sense, everything was rotating like the Earth rotates around the Sun,

I…was orbiting around him.

Of course, I caught feelings. My first love changed me. He helped me become what I am today, he teached me to love knowledge and thirst for it. History became, because of him, one of my favorite topics. He teached me to search for happiness in me, not in other people. Also, he was there for me when I was crying at birthday parties or on sidewalks in Vama Veche (for our foreign readers, Vama is a seaside location in Romania, very popular amongst party people). During 9th grade, I was about to fail the chemistry exam, and he lifted me up and told me I’m able to pass the exam and ascend even further. 

I’ll be eternally grateful that he exists in the same space and time as me.

For all cliches and every star counted when thinking about him, I am grateful.

I can say that my first love was a dream that became a nightmare when it ceased to exist. Three times I’ve came back to him, for three times he welcomed me with open arms. Anyway, I don’t regret a thing about what we’ve lived together, I only regret that I haven’t been there for him when I should have. I don’t know if I’ll ever relive that childish and pure passion, but I’m determined to learn to love again and to love in every way, to offer whatever I got, just like he did.

Thank you for every poetry you’ve ever made me write and for every work of art that I’ve created inside me, because of you.

I’m waiting for you in Vama, to have a little chat… (meaning border, this location is named Vama because it is also a railway station from which you can go to Bulgaria)

Georgiana Badea

Georgiana Badea

Who are you to give me “feelings”?

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been writing about love, a feeling that, until some time ago, I didn’t even think I can feel. I always thought it was just fiction, an aberration of frustrated poets. 

That was until I got struck. More likely, CRUSHED by that truck.

How did he appear in my life? Randomly. And that random encounter radically changed every principle and every perspective I had about reality. He teached me to live by loving, to feel using every cell of my body, and, most importantly, to let myself go with the flow and enjoy the moment. Due to the fact that I didn’t want to fall in love, I now feel a thousand more feelings than I ever thought humanly possible. 

I know you read this now and I can only thank you for showing me that I’m more than a little robot fixed on the idea that love exists only in movies.

Thanks for making my life yellow (pink is overrated).


But…how can we better see love than through the eyes of an artist?


My first love was a muddy period, a period when even my illusions slapped me, let alone reality.

Suddenly I’ve opened my journal trying to search through the little table of contents, in order to find the pages written during hours when I was thinking: ‘What is she doing? How is she feeling? Is she ok?’… When I was writing about my feelings. I didn’t have answers, so I chose to stay with my tears, not noticing the passing of the time, without being with the one I love. To create false scenarios embedded in temptive memories.

I remember when I realised I’m in love: The moon was shining, I was laying in my bed and suddenly it hit me: ‘I like X’.

Here’s the issue…

I chose to remain inert. Why? Because, personally, my feelings are usually filtered through rational thinking. Pain came when I was near that person every day, but I couldn’t do anything. To feel their touches, to see their movements, gestures, to hear their sorrows, their dreams…everything…so I was doing circular motions in the circle of hopes, while asking questions like ‘What if?’.

‘Will they be mine tomorrow?’
-Ștefan Ciobăniță

Stefan Ciobanita

First love isn’t all roses for everyone.

For me, first love came much later, when I was almost done with University. It had a major impact, even definitory for my life, I can say. I think the most important thing it offered me was the liberty I didn’t ever have. 

It ransacked me, it transformed my way of life and everything I knew up until that moment.

I realised that I cannot live alone anymore, for there are two of us. Some years passed since then, not too many, but I can still remember the feelings and moments that are mostly impossible for me to describe even now. They say you don’t forget your first love. Well, that person I can forget, but the memories and that vibe, that’s harder to forget.

I’ve loved passionately, like I never thought I would. However, pure and beautiful love lasted only for a short time.

If love is a cake, then everything that was sublime and made me a happy person would melt into a single slice. The rest are only slices of rot.

The other part of love was a torment that grew in intensity month by month. I witnessed physical violence, abandonment while hundreds of kilometers away from home, betrayals, cheating, humilities and insults that sometimes happened daily. During the last month, I remember the suffocating feeling of despair, because I couldn’t stand it anymore, and crying became tiring. I didn’t have enough power to put a stop to it, and love was already a thing that expired over a year earlier.

But I accepted, I forgave and gave chance after chance, but they were empty just like they were emptying the life, happiness and hope out of me. I’ve always tried to see the good in people, no matter how much darkness they showed. I know nobody’s perfect, me included, but I always try to remember my first love like something beautiful, like it was in the beginning.

Specific to fangirls, I’ve had 4 or 5 crushes , that ended being a wild goose chase and stalking on Instagram and Facebook.

Feelings struck me like a tank during the autumn of 2017, when I was 16. Up until then it had struck, but with nerf guns and water pistols. It took me 16 years to realise that love doesn’t hit all at once; it hits you first when he texts you, and then when you grab a coffee for the first time.

Love hits you everyday when you find out something new and complete the puzzle of a beautiful soul.

It hits you the hardest when you feel like you have no one by your side, when you feel like everyone is against you. When your colleagues gossip about you and adults don’t consider you the same serious and talented kid now that you’re in love, and then your loved one comes and says

‘Hey, are you ok? Let’s hang out, I want to make sure you’re fine.’

Yeah, there are a lot of fights that suck, and no couple can say they didn’t have their fair share of them. If they say that, something’s wrong. But all of these are worth it, even for a single summer afternoon when you’re eating a McCombo before a cool festival day.

-Călin Raluca

Raluca Calin

‘Butterflies in your stomach?’ No, that’s not love, it’s ulcer.

My love is in vain. I don’t know how others feel about love, but I was expecting something nice.

Nevertheless, I won’t write in the past tense, because I only now believe that I’m starting to love. Or maybe that’s not love. Maybe it’s just a feeling of emotional satisfaction, because a person shows a gram of interest in me.

I feel like someone wants to open my wings and comfort my scars.

They seem like they really want to know me…but for what purpose?

I don’t deserve someone to discover me. If I think about it, I don’t even think there’s a lot to discover about me. I’m a simple, naive person.

If this is love…I don’t want it. I’d rather want to be happy, but it doesn’t work out for me.

Love me or let go of me.

I’ve had enough of being a small part of the entire spectrum of your thoughts. Prove to me that you deserve my love, or let me go before it’s too late.



You look paralyzed at the human next to you, and you wonder like a lunatic how beautiful he is, how his eyes shine, how his face radiates when he smiles.

I’ll start simple. A sort of cliche. A story so trivial for others, but for me, a lesson. A lesson that was painful as heck.

During that normal June day, I’ve known him, like nobody else did. Simple, in his black leather jacket, with an assorted perfume typical to the strong type. Two meters of confidence in his stature, a smug, the city’s player. He could have snapped his fingers, and before you knew it, every girl in the city would have fallen at his feet. But he may have perceived me as some sort of challenge. The unconquerable girl, the innocent girl, and him, the master seducer.

I was only a bet that he had win.

And during a damned evening, my feelings hit me like a truck. For a moment I looked at him without uttering a word. I saw his features, lit in the dim light of the boulevard lamp. ‘So that’s love?’ I asked myself. He didn’t know, but I fell for him big time. Every day, I was eagerly looking forward to seeing him again. I never told him, but it was amazing, he rocked my world without even knowing.

If you read this, know that it is for you.

I’ve fallen in love with the way you made me feel, because I didn’t know that I could be this happy in a heartbeat.

You always were a joy for me. And yet, you left.

You came as stormy as you left. At the beginning of the story you teached me what love was, and at the end, what longing and suffering meant. I didn’t say bad things to you, even if you deserve them, because at the end of the day, love is about this. When you truly love, even though it turns out to be the wrong person, you can’t roll your story in the mud. You just need to respect everything that you two had together, pure and simple.

Thank you for the lesson that you offered, and, you, naive person, never forget: a disappointed woman will never come back!
Antonia Mihaela

Antonia Mihaela

How was it the first time you caught feelings?


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