A Letter to No One.

Dear You,

I woke up today feeling strangely content. I think you have to smile at the day for it to smile back at you.

Sometimes all you have is yourself. The person in the mirror will grow as you grow, the person in the mirror will cry while you cry, the person in the mirror will laugh while you laugh. And the person in the mirror will always extend a hand when you reach out for it. I think it's important to be there for yourself.

When I was very little, my legs always ached when I lay down to sleep. All the doctors said it was nothing to worry about, and that it was just because I was growing up, bit by bit. Then I think, every little ache makes you grow, bit by bit. It's not exactly the legs that ache now. But I must be growing again. Which reminds me. There's only two to three months left of being fifteen. That makes me sad in the strangest of ways. I like being fifteen. Fifteen sounds like a crossroad between being a kid and not being one. Sixteen sounds grown up.

It's funny. The thoughts I want to erase the most are the ones that tend to stick around for the longest. There'd be a lot of space for productive thoughts to flow if they weren't blocked by the same old dreary ones that I've grown far too used to and they still hold me in their grasp. A thought is a great one if you control it; powerful if it controls you.

I've been whining a lot about college lately. I felt bad about it later. I should realize I'm lucky enough to have a place to study. That's the thing about blessings; you never know how big of a blessing it is unless it's taken away. God forbid, though. But there are a lot of things to look forward to, and a lot of things to leave behind. One of my favourite persons in the whole wide world said, "The doorway to your future is not big enough for you and your past." I'll remember that.

I'm sitting here staring at a trophy cabinet. I don't want to stop writing.

I'm so grateful for the wonderful people I can call family, the amazing people God chose for me as friends, and for the strife to become who I'd like to become. And even for a math book that's falling apart. I don't know what I'd do without it all. I think, by now, you know what I am. But I'll tell you again. I am infinitely blessed.

Thank you for reading, and for listening. (My sister says I should thank you for reading, not listening. Makes sense. But I'm sure the voice in your head is reading this to you and that you are listening to it anyway.)

Love,

Me.