I CAN spell love

Literally, of course I can spell love. What I really mean is: despite my age, I truly to believe that I can feel love.

Many of you will disagree, of course. You'll tell me I'm too young to be putting those letters together, that my maturity is too shakey to possibly be capable of such an emotion. To those of you who believe love has an age requirement, I say fuck you  ask what your first memory is. More than likely, it's a familial affection--perhaps toward your parents or a sibling. And what is this? A form of love! You are likely not even able to spell your own name yet, but there you are, feeling love towards your family.

Now, that still leaves the question: at what point are you able to feel romantic love? Personally, I feel that this is a highly objective question. The answer shifts from person to person, some capable of only infatuation during their adolescent years, while others meet (and develope love for) the one before they can legally drink. "Puppy love" aside (because who didn't write his name all over their notebook in first grade? Honestly), I have been brought to the belief that a highly mature and capable person can experience love long before it is commonly accepted that they might.
With that, I come to the conclusion that at just fourteen years old, I believe I am in love. It seems naieve even to my own eyes to read, however, I know deep within myself that this is the honest truth. Mind you, I am under no impressions that he and I will be together forever or even beyond high school. But in the present, I am in love with this boy.

I know this ignites controversy with many, so tell me, what do you think? Does love know an age minimum? At what age did you first feel romantic love? Is judgement of capabilities based upon age fair, or is it a superiority complex? I can't wait to hear from you.
--Lena Grace

Deliciation

   A lifelong bibliophile, it's no secret that I love words. Finding interesting new words excites me, raising my pulse and bringing a brilliant smile to my face. Syllables dance through my mind constantly, and I carry a thick stack of vocabulary flashcards with beautiful new words in my purse. I adore language in general, but words will always be my focus point.
   I own no dictionaries, however, due to their objectivity (thank god for dictionary.com!). You see, every year, a few words in the dictionary fall into obscurity and are often removed. These words, no less marvelous than those within the musty pages of the dictionary, are lost to the language forever.
   Not too long ago, I was lucky enough to have stumbled across my all time favorite word--a word that Merriam Webster didn't deem important enough to cover. Deliciation: the act of delighting oneself. The syllables roll of my tongue gracefully, like a lingering kiss. Each letter seems to flow from my fingertips eloquently, one stringing after the next. Dee-lee-see-a-shun. The definition is a simple one, but the action itself is rarely achieved. In my life, I hope only for the opportunity to deliciate. The ability to give joy to yourself is a gift rarely bestowed, and often a lifelong peregrination we all take. Deliciation is, in a way, the very meaning of life. And it isn't even in a dictionary.
   Then again, life isn't in a dictionary, is it?


What about you? What's your favorite word? What do you think of the journey toward deliciation? I look forward to hearing from you, my lovelies.
--Lena Grace