I should write about it

I kept walking with them. No one was talking, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. Was I in some kind of serene moment?

There weren’t many people on the dark streets of the city. But every now and then, I’d see someone walk by. My parents kept talking, not much though. Their words passed through my brain but didn’t stay there.

I looked up at the sky—it was dark and kind of empty, but the calm remained. Was this how my mind looked now?

My mom discreetly pointed at a couple I quickly identified as teenagers—two boys holding hands. We kept walking, and I glanced at the couple now and then until they stopped. My eyes followed them instinctively, even though we were about to pass them. They were saying goodbye, it seemed. But the most noticeable part was the kiss they shared before parting.

After a while, my mom pointed that out. I didn’t say anything. She mentioned how that’s just how today’s youth is. I’m not sure if I took it as an insult or not. I just know I asked something about it, trying not to sound offended or too nosy. She didn’t answer.

I looked back up at the sky. Some clouds had appeared. They were really cute. How could anyone hate something like that? Young love is something truly beautiful.

Would I ever be like them one day? They looked my age. I also want to have a boyfriend. I guess I’m a little jealous.

We got to my house. My head was still up in the clouds, and I didn’t even say goodbye to my parents. I should write about it.