“The best and most beautiful things in this world cannot be seen or even heard, but must be felt with the heart,” Helen Keller. The heart, as Helen Keller said, holds what is most important in our lives. It is where all of our favorites, all our desires, and most importantly, where everything we love is kept. Childhood through pre-adult is when we grow up and find ourselves. But it is also when we have breakdowns and hardships. It is when we discover just exactly what our heart wants...or what we think it wants. I have realized, throughout my seventeen years of living, that it is hard to know what is good for us and what is better to be forgotten about and abandoned.

My first boyfriend was in sixth grade. Can you even call it a relationship when it’s between two twelve year olds? Maybe not, but I’m still going to count it. We couldn’t go on actual dates (obviously) and we felt couldn’t even tell our parents about it, so we kept it secret outside of our schoolmates. We felt as if we were doing some crazy, rebellious thing by being together. He was one of the jokesters in class, while I was the shyest girl you could meet. The deepest connection we had was our shared hatred of art class. It was truly laughable, our ‘relationship’. One week in to it, the boy said he loved me. Loved me. A twelve year old to another twelve year old! And you know what my sixth grader self did? I told him it was a lie. That he couldn’t possibly love me. Even at the young age I had an understanding of what it could mean. At the time, if I remember correctly, I thought love was when you were with someone for a significant period of time. Since this boy and I had only been together seven days, I just knew he couldn’t meet that definition. Our ‘relationship’ ended soon after that, when I finally figured out how wrong we were together (go me, my first break up). That was also my first taste on what the emotion could possibly be.

Fast forward to the end of seventh grade and I am in a new relationship. This one is more realistic, for I was fourteen not twelve (two years is a big difference, okay?). This time the boy and I were friends first and had common interests and humor. When we began the boyfriend-girlfriend status, I found out how troubled the boy was. His sad past, his current depression and struggles, and his fear for the future. About a month in I felt like I could not leave him, for it would destroy him. I always felt the need to help him. I wanted to, sure, but I felt I had to as well; As if his happiness was my weight to carry. Because of that, I thought I loved him. My definition had changed from amount of time spent with someone, to how much you helped someone. And it so happened to be that this boy’s definition of love was how much someone cared for you. Our concept of love was strangling. It was stressful putting so much pressure on ourselves to make the other happy at all times. It was as if we were each other’s therapist, not partner. I thought it was normal, healthy even. Eventually, the relationship got so toxic we had to end it. I do believe we cared for each other on a deep level, but it was too unhealthy to truly be love. This was my first look into how such a strong emotion can be harmful.

Freshman year comes. I meet a boy who makes me laugh and who finds me adorable. He asks me out quickly, and now begins the cycle all over again. We had a good time, just never by ourselves. We were always with shared friends and never hung out outside of school. Eventually, he pops the L word and says he had never cared about anyone as much as me before. His definition for love was who you cared about the most. Mine at the time? Who you had the most fun with. This relationship wasn’t straining or difficult, it was just very impersonal. We never opened up to each other, yet he thought he loved me. Now I know you can’t love someone without them knowing your true self. It just doesn’t work. I think he finally realized that as well, for he was the one to break up with me after we began to talk less and less. By this point I was beginning to understand what love actually meant to me.  

Junior year to now. I am in a relationship. A real, hand holding, going out on dates, hanging out with family, relationship. At seventeen years old, I am comprehending what love is. It is who you have the most fun with. It is who you care about and trust the most. It is who opens up to you and lets you be yourself in return. It is everything I believed growing up combined into one all-around person. We must go through lots of different people to get the pieces to be able to form a true understanding of it. Growing up, I have seen many different examples of it. From my own relationships, from my parents and grandparents, and from my friends. They have all shaped how I view it today.

Love is a touchy topic. It really is. It is difficult to find two people who have the exact same definition of the word. It is the most personal and vulnerable emotion we can feel. It can give hope, or it can take it away. It is a blanket, while also a dagger. As seen, my own definition for it has changed many times. Love changes as we do. That is why it is so hard. It is what we want most in life...yet it is the most difficult to understand. All we can do is live through it a handful of times to finally discover what it is to us personally. It’s a risk, but it’s worth it.