As I am approaching my last days of high school I am beginning to realize how much I have grown.
When I sit and think it seems as if i am still the same nine year old that painted her face, put on "boy clothes," and ran around the yard and played army with her seven year old brother while it poured down rain.
Or the ten year old who shielded her self from the pain of watching her dad kill the turkeys we had raised for Thanksgiving and then refused it when the time came.
Or the eleven year old that broke down and cried in fear of moving away from something she had known her whole life.
Or the twelve year old that was shamed and made fun of by people who barely knew her.
Or the thirteen year old who got excited over having her first "real" boyfriend.
Or the fourteen year old that had her first experience with death and heart break by the loss of people she thought would be in her life forever.
Or the fifteen year old who threw up the night before her first day of school, her birthday, and every one since then.
Or the sixteen year old that lived carelessly disregarding her own health and well being.
Or the seventeen year old who continuously tried to cultivate positivity and the courage to keep going.
And the eighteen year old with a whole new year laid at her feet.
Slowly, as I grow, I learn that the years add up to make you a wonderful person. But I also learned that your past shapes you, but it does not define you.
to ever-evolving youth,