Little boy, big crush

Was remembering a school trip to Swanage. Was 9 years old and away for about a week. Unlike the previous break in Bath, this time I was not homesick.
Because I was in love.
Sadly, I cannot remember her name but I remember how she looked and how she made me feel.
I was always by her side, when possible holding her hand.
To me she was a grown up, but had yet to close the door to childhood.
She was only a student teacher, but the term she taught us was one of the happiest. She was so much cooler than my parents and the real teachers at school. When she left to return to Uni, I cried my little heart out.
Looking back I wonder if she really was anything special.
I was just a boy in love.
Next year I would fall in love again. Or rather, this weakness in my psyche would be callously exploited.
Remembering the student teacher helps me understand my childhood self.
Makes me feel less guilty for being an easy to manipulate fool in love. A soft target for groomers. Makes me understand why the fuck I went back again each time knowing what would happen.
I was a boy in love.
And love makes fools out of all of us.

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