In middle school, I always tried to force myself to be someone I wasn't. I tried to be the perfect image of what I believed the "popular girls" were like: Pin-straight hair, perfect PINK perfume, Abercrombie from head to toe, a competitive dancer, friends with the older boys. I had it all. I was tall, spunky, and friends with who I needed to be friends with - except myself. I hated who I was, how I felt like I couldn't be friends with who I really wanted, and how I still struggled to find who I was under the layers of split ends caused by my flat iron on self-prescribed "dress up" days. The curly-haired, green-eyed girl I have come to love was nowhere to be found until I forced her to come face-to-face with the makeup-ed mannequin I had become during my 6th-grade year.

I felt so so so cool dating somebody older than I was - a 7th grader. Let me just say that again, A 7TH GRADER! Who, little ole' Brookie was wanted by somebody in the grade above her, who would have thought?! For the first three days of our week-long fling, everything was perfect. He would Kik me hearts between classes from the seventh-grade wing, and I became friends with the girls above me. Who knows, maybe he even wanted me to ride my bike to his house to (dare I say it) watch a movie when his parents weren't home?! *insert gasp here* I was head over heels for this boy, shorter than me, older than me, on our middle school football team, how could it get better?

News flash: those perfect three days turned into five and on the fifth day, everything went downhill faster than me attempting to walk up Bascom Hill when it's covered in ice.

To preface the best day of my life, let me provide some background. I was a badass boss babe running a horribly made bow business that my lovely supporters continually hyped me up for, for absolutely no reason. I promise you this praise was not deserved in the slightest. I was beginning the just scratch the surface away of my superficial self and dig deeper into my creativity of what made me, me. Bows and color and laughs and funny faces and crazy dance parties started to happen just before I met he who shall not be named.

So, with that in mind, the EPIC outfit I am about to describe should not surprise you in the slightest. Let me just lay this out. The outfit was an incredibly symbolic compilation of rainbow Osiris high top tennis shoes, pink fuzzy socks, purple Nike gym shorts, a green zebra-striped see-through top with a pink tank top underneath, a zebra-striped headband, hair in a bun, and a (not so) masterfully crafted bow in a bun. I was ready to walk in every major fashion week to say the least.

As I was making it through my day, I was completing my mission. I was standing out. I loved how it felt to be seen for who I was. And then lunch came. His friend came up to me and because of how crazy I looked, my "boyfriend" didn't think we were going to work out.

I was shocked, taken aback, flabbergasted to the point of no return. I laughed and said, "Okay." He didn't accept me for who I was. He didn't appreciate my vivacious color. He wanted me to dull the sparker of my Swarovski encrusted hair bow. He wanted me to be something I was not. He wanted me to be quiet, to not shine in the only way my spotless high tops knew how, through a wild self-expression and desire to suck up as much fun and light this life has to offer.

That was the day I learned how to love myself.

I am so so so thankful to you, middle school boyfriend. You taught me something I barely could comprehend in the first place, and if I'm being honest, still struggle with sometimes today. My passion, my light, my sparkle is loud and shining for all to see because of you, and I have no plans to dull it for anybody ever. Getting rejected for arguably one of the most iconic outfits to ever walk to halls of my middle school allowed me to embrace the beauty and the fire I didn't even know I had. With each condolence from my friends who worried I would break at the touch of a finger, each sideways look I got from the older kids, my confidence swelled larger and larger and larger until I felt like I was going to burst.

I may have not been enough for him, but after that day, that breakup, that embrace of my true beauty, I became enough for myself.