What If I Loved You in ’98?

It’s 2:00 AM.The world is hushed, and everyone I know is asleep, except my thoughts.They’re wide awake, tangled in moonlight and melodies from a time I never lived, yet somehow ache for.I don’t know why, but nights like this always take me somewhere softer, somewhere older, where love felt handwritten and hearts took their time.And suddenly, I find myself wondering...What if I loved you in ’98?

By someone born too late, but meant for that kind of love.Not here, not now,But somewhere in a world of soft freckles and flannel shirts, where the sky stayed golden longer and love lived in between moments, not mentions.

I like to think we’d find each other in a record store tucked away from the world, you in headphones, eyes closed, swaying to a song I’d never heard but would come to love just because you did.You’d glance at me, and for a second, the whole store would fall silent, no algorithm, no swipe, just a glance that felt like fate had good timing.

Maybe you’d call me from a payphone, your voice a little shaky, asking if I wanted to meet at the park after dark. We’d sit on swings under fairy-lit skies, talking about nothing and everything.Your denim jacket would smell like the night, part rain, part mystery, part you.We’d send letters, real ones, folded into hearts, sealed with tape and teenage longing.

You’d underline your favorite words. I’d trace them with my fingertips, whispering them like they were spells.We’d make mixtapes, your handwriting crooked on the label, little inside jokes in the tracklist.You’d play it on your boombox, and I’d fall in love with the way you closed your eyes on the chorus.

There’d be no “seen” messages, no status updates, only the thrill of wondering when I’d see you again, and the magic of actually missing someone.We’d walk slow, talk late, kiss like the world wasn’t ending, but just beginning.Because love in ’98 wasn’t loud,It was quiet, sure, sacred, written in the fog of car windows, in the space between the beats of a love song.

And maybe I was born too late,But sometimes, in my daydreams, I still find you there,Waiting, like me,Somewhere in the rewind.