The second hardest part about growing up is trying to figure out who you are. The hardest part comes after you’ve figured it out and the rest of the world wants to pull you in a different direction.

I look out into the water and up deep into the stars. I beg the sparkling lanterns of light to cure me of myself – my past and the kaleidoscope of mistakes, failures and wrong turns that have stacked unbearable regret upon my shoulders.

She’d always pictured her future self as a lone wolf traveling around the world, ensnaring romantic conquests and achieving her wildest and most ambitious goals. She didn’t think that at nineteen she would be so dependent on other people; she pictured herself as an autonomous and untouchable force that occasionally flitted back home to show off her new feathers before flying away to her life that was much more exciting than theirs.

If I had an .MP3 of your heartbeat… I might actually get some sleep.

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