I miss the kind of love where the only thing you worry about is what time your parents will be home after school, so that you know how long you have to innocently make out.
I miss the kind of love where you don’t question compatibility or whether you have similar life goals because you’re only 15 and those things don’t matter and the only things that do are if a) they find you attractive b) you find them attractive and c) you find each other tolerable.
I miss the days when you were able to be extremely selfish and naïve and think about the person you like constantly without it being at all concerning or weird because those were just inevitable traits that came with being your age.
I miss the kind of love where you didn’t expect much, other than to remember to decorate each other’s lockers for your birthdays or make sure to have matching colored outfits to semi-formal and only slow dance with each other.
I miss the simplicity of love that exists when you’re 15.
Love is complicated and messy and confusing. It lives in the gray zone, where nothing is right or wrong and nothing makes exact sense. Love has the ability to cultivate genius and is the closest thing to magic you’ll ever witness. Love can also bring out the beast inside of you, the closest thing to the hulk you’ve ever seen, the one you always knew could exist but never actually wanted to witness. Love is so overwhelming.
But when you’re 15, love is simple and basic and primitive. You tell them you love them and they tell you back and that’s all you need to be happy. You hold hands and hang out and fall in love without the assumption that anything will go wrong. You sit in parks, and tell each other silly secrets and dreams that you hope will come true but aren’t in any rush to find out, because you’re so content sitting right there in the park with this person, who may or may not be the one, on this forth of July weekend in your quaint hometown.
I hear that things have changed since I was 15; that kids are less naïve and more experimental and way less immature than I was at that age. But I sincerely hope not. I hope that they still experience love the way I did at 15. Because it’s blissful, and wonderful and simple. And it’s the only time love will ever be that way.
High school, 15-year-old love is the most cringe worthy yet eye opening wonderful experience. It’s magical because of its innocence and purity. It’s loving before you’ve ever been hurt, before you’ve ever been let down and before you know what to be afraid of. Most importantly, it’s loving without fear, without regret and without worry.