I talk constantly about change, and for that I’m sincerely sorry, but it’s just I seem to be able visualize it better when I write about it.
Because once I was 5. Once I could play pretend and laughed and told her older sister she could catch up to her in age. The one that made her Dad play baby and she was his mother.
Because once I was 7. Once upon a time I could swim in the creek behind my house and find a Brazilian fish that looked like a alien. Who went around singing and twirling, and who walked around in circles at the lunchroom with her best friend. Who discovered Sound of Music and wanted to be sixteen so she could sing that one song.
Because once I was 11. I could sing opera and started a new school. Who read through every book she could find; including the psychological books on child behavior. Who came up with the idea to carry a book everywhere…just in case.
Because once I was 13. Scared, depressed, and a bit dark. Finding love, finding writing, finding mood swings. Who doubted everything and everyone, but still found happiness in love from her family and friends.
And now I’m 15. I have a blog. I have friends. I have the Phantom of The Opera soundtrack memorized and also Wicked. I can be a bit insecure but also really confident.
The truth is, most of my friends don’t know me past 13, but a couple do. Y’all don’t know me past 14.
When I started writing, I thought I had the most boring life EVER. I thought I was the most boring person EVER. I thought my family was boring. But in all reality, my life is interesting.
It will make a splendid autobiography someday.
But I actually have a random question: would you guys read my literature? Would you read my autobiography? Would come and to a meet and greet? Sorry…I just all of sudden want to meet you all and hug each one of you and just hang out for a day.
8 days left of competition. Make sure to sign up and join!