I want to share.
I'm extraordinarily lucky. I've got the life of lives. I have two parents who live together, love each other, love me, support me through what I want to accomplish, and above all, are my friends. They make me laugh every day, and yeah, sometimes they're what I call "too hard on me" for grades, but I know its for the best. I can be better than B-'s. I know I can. They want what's best, and I get it. I say I'm totally pissed at them for being so unfair, but in reality, I get it. No matter when they don't seem to understand or when they raise their voices over a misunderstanding, I still love them. To be honest, it kills me when one of them is out of town for a work trip. One phone call at night isn't enough. Every time I'm home alone and the phone rings, my heart beats a little faster. I'm terrified that something will have happened to them. I can't live without my parents.
I have amazing friends; friends who I love and would go to the ends of the Earth for. Friends who I plan to not lose track of. I wouldn't trade them for the world. I have a small family, each one who treats me the best way I could be treated. I've got an amazing boyfriend who treats me like diamond. He's sweet and polite and caring and funny and I don't know if I could imagine anyone better, honestly, or at least not now.
I live in a nice neighborhood with good neighbors, friends I can play tag with until midnight during the summers. The annoying boys down the street, the two girls I've spent countless sleepovers with, they're all the foundation of my fondest childhood memories. Yeah, the boys can be gross and loud and uncouth, and I kind of hate to say it, but without them, my life would've been completely different. We've had our drama, but its all part of growing up, right? I spent thousands of days, running barefoot through Tom's soft green grass, feeling it as it scraped across my skin as we did flips and acrobatics. I've choreographed dances, put on plays in my backyard, watched Landen start to grow up, see Rylee get older: going from a newborn, announced by the stork on the Winters' lawn, to the nine-year old, who still comes over to see if I want to play, and to give me a hug on holidays. I've hopped and skipped over the hot asphalt and scraped up my toes clambering up the stone wall to watch a sunset over the tops of the houses of LA county. Hell, I've been thrown across a lawn and kicked in the gut before kneeing the guy and elbowing him hard in the ribs, and it's still something I look back on fondly. Its a part of my history. I remember lying out in the sun, baking and listening to the birds and sprinting to the end of the block as the ice cream man rounded the corner before hurriedly paying for my cookies n' cream ice cream cup. We played hobos and tigers and antelope and our own personal brand of baseball. Those were the times when I didn't have to worry about homework or tests or guys or anything. I opened the front door at seven in the morning and sprinted down the block to get my friends. We'd play until late at night until we picked it up again the next day. Those were the times without worry.
Now, I still don't have anything to complain about. I get pretty good grades, I still have that family, I still have my neighborhood. The only thing that's really gone is the freedom. The freedom that comes along with being a kid. The freedom that made me light on my feet, compelled me to break my back over the last two feet to make it to the base so I wouldn't be tagged. The freedom that made every day wonderful. It was simpler then. I ran into the front, basked in the warmth of the summer sun, reveled in the poking of the grass under my feet, and soaking up every labored breath as I ran all around the neighborhood. I didn't appreciate it then, but then who does, really. Now that I'm a junior, looking at the frightening emptiness that is what I can see of the future, I miss not caring. I miss being able to run without a care in the world. I miss being secure in that all my friends and family would be safe, that I lived in a beautiful world, and that everything would be okay, so long as I had my friends. I know, its called becoming more aware of my world or whatever, but what if I don't want to become more aware? What if I don't want to always think back on my childhood and think, 'God damn. Why did I get so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve this life?' There are people who fight through life from the day they're born, who never get to enjoy the sun on their backs and the smell of sunscreen that were the symbols of my wonderful life? When I was young, all I knew was I was happy. Now, I know I'm happy, but I also know I'm one of the few. Too many people don't get to enjoy the simple pleasures of watching the sunset over the city, smelling the salt air of the summer's first trip to the beach, or the late night giggling and snacks, stuffed into warm sleeping bags.
Before, the future was so bright. I was so happy. Now, I'm still happy for the most part, but I think about how some people don't ever get to experience that and I don't know why I deserve the nearly perfect life. Its tragic that people sometimes don't get to see these pleasures, and I wish I could help. I want to share, but there's virtually nothing I can do.
I'm just a fifteen-year old with a painfully keen awareness of the state of many places of the world, and a grim outlook on the future. Where's that carefree seven-year old who knew happiness and love and the brightness of her future, as surely as she knew she had ten fingers and toes? Why can't I get her back? I miss her.
I have amazing friends; friends who I love and would go to the ends of the Earth for. Friends who I plan to not lose track of. I wouldn't trade them for the world. I have a small family, each one who treats me the best way I could be treated. I've got an amazing boyfriend who treats me like diamond. He's sweet and polite and caring and funny and I don't know if I could imagine anyone better, honestly, or at least not now.
I live in a nice neighborhood with good neighbors, friends I can play tag with until midnight during the summers. The annoying boys down the street, the two girls I've spent countless sleepovers with, they're all the foundation of my fondest childhood memories. Yeah, the boys can be gross and loud and uncouth, and I kind of hate to say it, but without them, my life would've been completely different. We've had our drama, but its all part of growing up, right? I spent thousands of days, running barefoot through Tom's soft green grass, feeling it as it scraped across my skin as we did flips and acrobatics. I've choreographed dances, put on plays in my backyard, watched Landen start to grow up, see Rylee get older: going from a newborn, announced by the stork on the Winters' lawn, to the nine-year old, who still comes over to see if I want to play, and to give me a hug on holidays. I've hopped and skipped over the hot asphalt and scraped up my toes clambering up the stone wall to watch a sunset over the tops of the houses of LA county. Hell, I've been thrown across a lawn and kicked in the gut before kneeing the guy and elbowing him hard in the ribs, and it's still something I look back on fondly. Its a part of my history. I remember lying out in the sun, baking and listening to the birds and sprinting to the end of the block as the ice cream man rounded the corner before hurriedly paying for my cookies n' cream ice cream cup. We played hobos and tigers and antelope and our own personal brand of baseball. Those were the times when I didn't have to worry about homework or tests or guys or anything. I opened the front door at seven in the morning and sprinted down the block to get my friends. We'd play until late at night until we picked it up again the next day. Those were the times without worry.
Now, I still don't have anything to complain about. I get pretty good grades, I still have that family, I still have my neighborhood. The only thing that's really gone is the freedom. The freedom that comes along with being a kid. The freedom that made me light on my feet, compelled me to break my back over the last two feet to make it to the base so I wouldn't be tagged. The freedom that made every day wonderful. It was simpler then. I ran into the front, basked in the warmth of the summer sun, reveled in the poking of the grass under my feet, and soaking up every labored breath as I ran all around the neighborhood. I didn't appreciate it then, but then who does, really. Now that I'm a junior, looking at the frightening emptiness that is what I can see of the future, I miss not caring. I miss being able to run without a care in the world. I miss being secure in that all my friends and family would be safe, that I lived in a beautiful world, and that everything would be okay, so long as I had my friends. I know, its called becoming more aware of my world or whatever, but what if I don't want to become more aware? What if I don't want to always think back on my childhood and think, 'God damn. Why did I get so lucky? What did I ever do to deserve this life?' There are people who fight through life from the day they're born, who never get to enjoy the sun on their backs and the smell of sunscreen that were the symbols of my wonderful life? When I was young, all I knew was I was happy. Now, I know I'm happy, but I also know I'm one of the few. Too many people don't get to enjoy the simple pleasures of watching the sunset over the city, smelling the salt air of the summer's first trip to the beach, or the late night giggling and snacks, stuffed into warm sleeping bags.
Before, the future was so bright. I was so happy. Now, I'm still happy for the most part, but I think about how some people don't ever get to experience that and I don't know why I deserve the nearly perfect life. Its tragic that people sometimes don't get to see these pleasures, and I wish I could help. I want to share, but there's virtually nothing I can do.
I'm just a fifteen-year old with a painfully keen awareness of the state of many places of the world, and a grim outlook on the future. Where's that carefree seven-year old who knew happiness and love and the brightness of her future, as surely as she knew she had ten fingers and toes? Why can't I get her back? I miss her.