We all are though. Right? I mean, adults aren't like their teenage selves. So, I'm teenagers aren't like their child selves? At least I'm not. I had the perfect life. I had what I wanted, what I needed.
And then everything changed faster than I could blink. While everything around me fell apart, I held myself together. I don't quite know how I was so together, I had my own invisible super glue. I saw my mom cry and pushed my tears far away so she wouldn't see. So no one would see.
I left my perfect home.
Watched my perfect family fall apart.
My mom and "dad" got divorced, and that led to me being fatherless. It brought up the point that I've always been fatherless, he was just temporary in my eyes at age 11. He was there for a while, and then he would leave. But I had gotten used to the Temp, I had begun to like the Temp. I called him Dad and he left. He left, I followed, we fought, and then I left. Funny how that worked out.
I haven't a clue where I'm going with this, but I might as well just keep on at it. I have nothing better to do anyhow.
But I've lost my train of thought.
Subject change...kind of,
back to life being unexpected.
When I was little, I would imagine growing up like it was a fairytale. I couldn't wait to cross the street on my own. I impatiently waited for my mom to buy me eyeliner, give me a curfew, take away my bedtime. I remember when she told me I could go to sleep whenever I wanted. I stayed up until 11:05 that night just to feel like she trusted me.
But even since those days, things have changed.
Just a year ago, I wouldn't have seen myself right here typing this. I thought I would still be friendless, I thought I would still be the timid girl who stood back and watched the world behind her smile. The girl who chose to be herself around only a few select people, but she had best friends. She trusted everyone with everything, because she hadn't been let down as much. She would runaway from emotions. She hated herself for letting her best friend die...
where did she go? Sometimes I go back and read old poetry and journal entries and think to myself that in my case, change is the best thing that could ever happen. I did not care about anyones feelings, I would log onto facebook and blow off any cries for help, as if their pain wasn't as real as mine.
I was so wrong.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I squint a little. Trying to catch a glimpse of what so many people see. Because I sure don't see it- of course not. I see a mess, but doesn't everyone? Don't we all see something other than whats real when we look in the mirror?
Now when I look at my arm in the sunlight, I see scars from my own worst nightmare, myself. I've grown stronger, and they shall stay scars, they will stay closed. But they're there.
My hair changes colors monthly.
I'm an insomniac.
I have friends.
I've fallen in and out in love, just to find out it wasn't love at all. But haven't we all?
I hide behind my hair.
I'm there for anyone who needs me. I've disliked someone almost to the point of hate, and stood up until 3AM talking to them about their problems. Why? I don't know. But I did. And do I regret it? Nope.
I write and write and write and MEAN IT. Yeah, I've always written. But what I wrote I never read, because it was all rubbish about some boy.
Now I have some boy. And I can call him my some boy. And I am my some boys some girl. And we are two some people. In some big world.
I have dreams bigger than myself, and I can't seem to figure out how to reach them yet, they're buried in the stars.
Thoughts of earth worms and tree climbing are out of my sight now. Though, I used to be the best tree climber on the block. Random fact: I was fearless.
THERE IS SO MUCH MORE.
I wish I could write forever, but eventually my thoughts get so scattered there is absolutely no point in trying to organize them in print.
I guess it's not the way you always planned it, looks like you're heading for a crash landing. At least thats the way it looks from where I'm standing.
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