when I was a teenager

I had a boyfriend from the age of 14-17. His name was Niklas. A very teenage love, but back then it was deadly serious. We argued a lot. A lot. We both had a short fuse. More me than him. I often left his house pissed off by some little small thing that he'd said or done. But anyway. I though he was really cool. He was one of the cool guys that painted graffiti. When he slept at my house he sometimes snuck out from my bedroom window in the middle of the night to paint and came back in the early morning. He dedicated some of his "artwork" to me. Wrote my name and drew hearts. I was proud. Except for one time when I realized where he had done this "artwork". It was in the tunnel where my mum biked to work everyday back and forth Monday- Friday. I was terrified. What if she saw my name massively written all over the wall? I didn't want her to think I was dating a law- breaking gangsta...hahaha.. But I was waiting for that day. The day she would come back from work and be ashamed. Ashamed of my boyfriend. But it never happened. She never saw it, or at least she never mentioned it. Those were the days.