Sixteen.
The year of fancies, they say.
The time in life when
the night is still young and
the craving of thrill, triumph and connection
gets insatiable every day.
May I make more mistakes,
Learn from them, or if I stumble again,
Remember to diligently save them in my stash
For stories to be lovingly narrated and laughed over
When wrinkles shroud my being.
May this year be the one
In which I shred and burn every layer of comfort
And plunge into unfamiliar territory
And find comfort in being a novice,
While changing, pushing and expanding
My definition.
Scribble, overwrite, erase
But make every scribble, every verse as imperfect,
Mine and only mine.
May this year be the one
To heal many wounds still open,
To answer many troubling questions,
And come to terms with the
Overwhelming reality that I am.
May this year be the one
In which I learn to love myself deeply,
Passionately, through every fiber of my being,
And crack open every mould, mask, layer,
That forced the vast stretches of the Universe,
Untouched by my light, make do with shadow.
May this year be one where I learn
To breathe, to exist,
To relish the moment and know, every second,
That I have never been older
And will never be this young again.
Writer’s note : Yes, I’m sixteen! :) Here’s to growing a tad bit taller and a tad bit wiser :)
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