Same girl, yet different
The clock strikes twelve and I'm officially thirteen. I blow out the candles and eat cake. This year feels different, strange, undoubtable change. A new world to experience, people deranged. Yet, I go to school and everything’s the same. Same friends, same classes, same face. Same girl, yet different. My emotions are heightened. I live with my heart out of my chest. I barely have time to rest. I’m scared, I’m stressed. I’ve learned that even the prettiest of flowers need the right conditions to bloom. What if I get an inadequate amount of sunlight? What if all I get is rain? Will I still blossom? Is a mediocre flower still “awesome”? As the day sets and the moon reconnects with the sky, I start to make sense of the world. Everyone has an unquenchable, irrevocable, inevitable need to be “perfect”, but “perfect” is subjective. Perfect is a social construct. Chasing something that doesn’t exist is going to drive me insane. So why should I? While the clock hits midnight once more I realize I should just be me. The way I think and present myself may be forever tainted, but I will never stop being me. Same girl, yet different.
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