January told me that just because a new year starts doesn’t mean a new me has to start.
February showed me that I am worthy of being loved.
March exposed me and all my worries and insecurities, and made me stronger by beating me down.
April taught me that sometimes other people see parts of yourself better than you do, but they may not always see the dark parts.
May spread me so thinly that I felt as if I were a drop of rain trying to cover an entire sidewalk.
June set me up; sometimes people are terrible, terrible creatures, and they’re willing to twist things however they need to in order to get what they want.
July presented me with an opportunity to prove that moving on doesn’t mean letting go.
August allowed me to rebuild parts of myself I thought I had lost.
September erased me; once again I would be a blank slate, and that haunted me for days.
October held me up for the world to see; I was now a part of something bigger than myself, something bigger that could make a difference.
November terrified me, showed me that out of sight did not mean out of mind, told me I was still in love even though I tried so hard to let go.
December let me know that just because the year is coming to an end doesn’t mean I have to as well.