I hate the way you talk time.
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car,
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick,
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate it… I hate the way you’re always right,
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh,
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around,
And the fact you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,
Not even close,
Not even a little bit,
Not even at all
In my 18 years I have learned to never settle for second best.
To embrace my stretch marks. Embrace my scars.
I have learned to flow freely but still be hot to the touch. I have learned to fight until I get what I deserve.
I have learned to keep my promises.
I have learned to work hard.
I have learned that it’s okay to laugh and it’s just as fine to cry.
I have learned that education is important but it is not everything.
I have learned that opinions are important but they are not everything.
I have learned to look inside people, to love and be loved
To smolder and smoke but still ignite when needed.
I’ve learned to be angry but always forgive. I’ve learned to forgive but to never forget.
I’ve learned to eat ice cream. Take pictures. Give thanks.
I’ve learned to go on walks. Talk loud. Dance boldly.
I’ve learned to be kind not only to others, but myself.
And I’ve learned to be kind to every walk of life I see.
In my 18 years I’ve learned to expand
because I deserve every good thing that I have. That I have had. That I ever will have. I’ve learned how to adventure and I’ve learned how to learn. And in that discovery, I’ve learned how to live.
I’ve spent the last seventeen years of my life waiting for the day that I turn eighteen. To be an “adult”, to know what it’s like to be free, but the truth is, I’ll never be as free as I am in this moment right now. It’s taken me seventeen years to realize that, seventeen years of mistakes, lessons, tears, relationships, words, people, and life. I still have a year left, a year left of simplicity, and it’ll be the longest yet shortest year of my life. But it is what it is, time keeps moving, and from this point on, you only grow older. And one day I’m not going to walk through that front door of what I call home. One day I’m going to wake up, be forty-two, and ask myself, “where the hell did time go?”.
Will you remember this? During the passionate and painful time of our 18th year, because you were there, we were able to become this, and so I was able to cheer up. Because you were here, I was able to look at myself, and that is why I was able to do better. I’ll probably continue to fall again. Because I’m not used to this, I’ll probably make mistakes, get hurt, and cry. Even so, I won’t regret it. We did everything in our ability to be happy today.