It’s a trip to me that this will be the last year I’ll officially be a teenager. I’m slightly upset and a little afraid if I’m honest.

My feel my carefree days slipping through my hands, sliding down like popsicle drippings, leaving a sticky residue. Leaving its presence lingering on your skin… and on your tongue when you’d attempt to lick it off the side of your hand.

I am grateful of my childhood; for my people, my experiences and the care that was provided, just for me.

I remember nuggets of it from specific memories.

The days I spent cuddled up on the couch, listening to my father’s voice; frequently changing along with the characters’ dialogues in my favorite book, Lemony Snicket.

The rough, familiar tick, tick of my bicycle on pavement, heading toward my neighborhood park.

The smooth slide of my mother’s caress on my back. There were a many of nights where I’d find myself nudging inside her bed. Sometimes, the flash of lightening left me shook with a little tremor causing me to wobble in search for her comfort. Other times, it might have been damn near running-just barely dodging Boogeyman’s clutches- and burrowing into the close of her neck, wrapping her arms around me.

The glint in my father’s eyes when I’d learn something new. I saw it plenty of times when he would teach me new lessons for science class. When I’d pick I’d see it in the corner of my eyes while I’d slide back different panels revealing more information about the exhibit when we frequented the Museum of Science and Industry.

I miss the delightful innocence blanketed around me, the delicate years that were spend in peace and moments dedicated to simply grow.

When I was first starting out my teens, I didn’t know what to do with the roughness of growing, the anger that comes with knowledge.

I let those feelings out in different ways, some more toxic than others.

Sometimes, I would sing

Sometimes, I would fume, get angry easily,

Sometimes, I would write; poetry, songs, blurbs of stories

Sometimes, I would pick fights at school, or mouth off at home.

Sometimes, I would walk, walk, walk, walk and walk

Sometimes, I would turn against myself.

As I grew, I noticed specific decisions would create certain patterns in my outcomes; I learned to shed my scanty bravado of pride away and to begin to formulate authentic self-esteem.

Growing took me various turns and different winding roads to get to where I am right now, but God, time and the drive and determination instilled in me, is constantly leading me into good places and more opportunities.

I still feel a pang in my heart when my eyes happen upon a playground in the middle of my drive back home, or when I see a child happily prance around the museum, tugging their parent’s hand and exclaiming with glee. But it’s not full of wistfulness but rather fondness, a remembrance.

I’m happy of the years ahead of me, and this place that I am now. I’m sometimes a little shaky, but I know that I’ll make it.

I have more confidence, more experience, a lot more faith and wisdom.

Life is a gift, and it’s something that you choose what type of life you want to live.

Also, life is a constant state of chaos and order, this is what makes it balanced… this is what equilibrium is comprised of.

You have to learn to live with the change.

Swing your legs with the movement of the swing set

And sometimes you have to let go.

Of the bad things, the mistakes you've made.

You let go to propel yourself further, to move with the air, and sail up, up ,up until gravity remembers you and you're feet kiss the ground again.

And then, you're thirsty to get back on and it again.

---

I will keep my fuzzy youth lingering on my skin, but I won’t lose focus of the now that is waiting to be lived I look forward to seeing what 20 will bring, and I will grow further.