kept the flowers

When you’re sixteen, everything can seem like the end of the world. Tests, acne, boyfriends, you name it. But as I grow older and look back on those times, they seem like the easiest and best days ever. Oh, to live off my parents and only have to worry about prom dresses again.

Of course, not everyone gets to live a privileged childhood. But mine was. We certainly weren’t rich, but I had amazing parents and fantastic friends. I was happy and motivated.

I recently watched some home videos from when I was a teenager—sixteen to be exact. And I couldn’t help but feel jealous of my former self. Even though I know all the heartbreaking and challenging things that came after that, I do envy me and my friends at that age.

Because what came after that was terrifying and devastating and almost too much to handle. Life began—real life. And it sucks…we all know that.

So while I almost wish I was sixteen again, I also know that girl was so young and so naive. She knew nothing about the world or herself or who she would become. And she had a shitload of life headed right for her.

Would I go back and do it all over again? It’s tempting, but no. Whether or not I carried my current knowledge with me, I know that I’d still have to grow up and become an adult—and that’s the hardest part. We can’t hang onto our youth no matter how much we want to.

So I suppose all I can do is hang onto part of that young and excitable girl and combine her with the grown woman I have become, with all the accumulated baggage that makes me, me. And I can certainly remember all the wonderful (and embarrassing) memories that my teenage years held.

And hey, I may have to deal with adult problems, but I can stay out as late as I want and eat junk food until 3am. That’s gotta count for something.