Sometimes, I wish I could feel love as intensely as I did when I was 13, chasing after a boy who didn’t even like me and who I once blew behind an elementary school. It was my first heartbreak. I remember feeling it so vividly because it was the first time my emotions had conjured real, physical pain, like dropping 20-pound weights on my chest. When I was a high school sophomore, love felt more substantial because it was reciprocated, but I was just as naive. “I love you,” my first boyfriend Cameron said, looking straight into my eyes, a minute or two into our first time together.