My best day ever was my 18th birthday. Not just because I got a tattoo (that is part of it) or I started college or the presents (my tattoo and lucky money, the only gifts I got thankfully).
It was my best day ever because as a young teen, I never thought I'd live to see the day of 18. 18 years of living, breathing, suffering. As a 14, 15, and 16 year old, I planned to die young at 17 or 16 because I hated my life and everything that was happening for and to me at the time. I didn't want to see what the year of 18 could hold for me, I assumed it was going to be bad and not worth the while. I cud remember so clearly all the times I planned my death, notes perfectly written to not show any emotions or point fingers to blame on who abandoned me or loved me the least.
It was the year of 17 that I had the most clarity of my life thus far. I learned that my life is of little value, bit still some to someone. I learned that I feel lonely because I am lonely. I don't let just anyone in, I watch and take precautions very seriously and I don't wear my heart on my sleeve though I do literally now. I learned that I should.
Waking up on year 18 made me realize I was hoping to be in the ground somewhere a year before. But I am not, I am walking on solid ground that won't take me under anytime soon.
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