One year old me doesn't remember much.

Two year old me doesn't remember much either, except that ants had infested our apartment and we had tried to collect them in little pill boxes.

Three year old me knew that there was a fun playground a little farther away from our apartment--a playground more fun than the one close to our apartment. Three year old me threw a temper tantrum trying to go to the one farther away.

Four year old me thought the word "one" was spelled "won."

Five year old me didn't know what a harmonica was called in English, but five year old me wanted to write a short story about the harmonica my grandpa had gotten me in China that summer. So five year old me wrote about this beautiful musical instrument without giving it a name. Right before she was required to provide a name, five year old me had the main character of the short story appear to "just have woken up from a dream!"

Five year old me was invited to a friend's birthday party. When five year old's mom said we were going shopping for a present, five year old me said she wanted to watch SpongeBob in our apartment. So five year old me did just that.

Six year old me pretended she was a Webkinz stuffed animal character at recess. She also wrote in a journal.

Seven year old me realized her obsession with turtles aligned with her second-grade teacher's obsession with turtles.

Seven year old me also realized that she was decent at spelling and reading when she read an article aloud about Mount Saint Helen erupting.

Eight year old me invited everyone in her class to her birthday party.

Nine year old me started ballet dancing.

Ten year old me got sick of her bangs and started wearing hair clips and headbands in an effort to get them off of her forehead.

Ten year old me also got a B+ on a social studies test and thought it was the end of the world.

Ten year old me ran the mile in gym class in 11 minutes and 29 seconds because she stopped to walk multiple times along the way.

Eleven year old me expanded her horizons and made new friends.

Twelve year old me expanded her horizons even more and made even more new friends. This might sound impressive--but it really isn't saying much, because pre-twelve year old me didn't talk to many people.

Thirteen year old me was insecure about her hair, her outfits, her eyebrows, her acne-filled face, her every move.

Fourteen year old me told thirteen year old me insecurity was overrated and ridiculous. Love yourself.

Fifteen year old me thrived and tried so many new things.

Fifteen year old me joined the cross country team and now she can run a mile in under 7 minutes.

Fifteen year old me started doing forms of dance that she had never done before and she loved it.

Fifteen year old me talked to more people and made more new friends than she had ever imagined she would.

Sixteen year old me learned that she loved to drive.

Sixteen year old me learned that people aren't good or bad, life isn't black or white, and it's not right to define people by one or two certain features.

Sixteen year old me is still trying to figure out how she feels about many things, but sixteen year old me knows that it's okay if things aren't all figured out anytime soon. It's a learning process.