Months ago during a conversation about being in love, I was asked how many times it had happened, replied "2 to 4" and then laughed, realizing it sounded like a snow forecast. It's not that I'm indecisive, I'm just not sure how can you possibly know. Even if you are certain at the time, even if the emotions feel so strong that it seems like they surely must be real, facts found in textbooks. Memories are like icebergs, so slow that you don't notice they're constantly moving and shifting and changing, that maybe one day they'll convince you of just the opposite of what you thought you believed.
Somehow I was aware of this when I was 14 and in love with a boy that I never even spoke to. I made myself promise that when I got older I would never not let him count, would never try to dismiss it as a thing of youth or inexperience because surely the pain of it was real enough, and what's the point of scars if you can't hold onto the story of how you got them?