For the past 14 years, When Harry Met Sally has normalized the idea that two platonic friends who are deeply in love with each other (but who are refusing to admit it!) can be secret soul mates.

What is it about being in love that makes us think in poetry? That makes us want to sing songs and dance and jump off of rooftops, grow wings, and fly to the stars? That burns holes in our hearts while simultaneously making them feel fuller and brighter? That transforms all of our rational thoughts into mush and makes us want to say “forever” over and over again like a lyric stuck repeating on a broken CD? That turns menial activities like doing homework, going to CVS, and walking to class together into grand adventures? That makes us literally feel colors when our loved one is in the same room as us? I don’t know, but it sure is weird sometimes. So, I’d like to talk about it.

As of today, I have almost 5,000 songs on my computer. In 2000, I went to a show in New York City called Pokemon Live, and after my seven-year-old heart palpitated at the sound of Ash Ketchum’s beautiful onstage voice, I couldn’t resist buying the soundtrack.

In 10th grade, I had to film a documentary for my AP government class. A group of 30 students, 15- and 16-year-olds, were divided into groups of about five to six people, and each group could choose any topic on which to do their documentary.

September has come and passed. (I will spare all of you and not quote Green Day). I’m upset about this passing because September is my favorite month of the year. For me, it is a month of change.

“My name is Alexia LaFata, and I have been using for nine years” is something I imagine I’d say if I were to enroll in a rehab-esque group for people addicted to social media. And when I say “using,” I mean I have been instant messaging and social networking since I was nine years old.