So, here’s to being sixteen.
Here’s to crying my eyes out and slashing my wrists one night, and to blasting music with the windows rolled down the very next. Here’s to eating when no one is watching, and shoving dirty clothes under my bed. To never feeling good enough but still managing to pull it together at 6:28 every weekday morning, but never on Saturday or Sunday. Here’s to friends who who chose a girl named Molly instead of me. Here’s to the beautiful boy who sits next to me in class, and here’s to wondering if he knows my last name. Here’s to wishing the days away and realizing when it’s too late, to wanting to be fifteen again although it was not really that much of a difference. Here’s to high school being such a lonely place, to the football games that make you feel alone and the bathroom stalls with the sharpie words offering hope. Here’s to wanting to change yourself so that beautiful boy and the field hockey team will finally accept you.
Here’s to ambiguity and staying true to myself.
Sixteen.