My young world has turned on its axis. For the first time really. The tough realities of death. And loss. And unfairness. And vulnerability.
My grandpa’s passing. Two dear families leaving my hometown. Being called a cheater by a teacher. The Junior High locker room.
I am 13. And nothing feels the same anymore.
If this is what lies ahead on the path of “growing up,” I want none of it.
Maybe that’s why on many days, in many ways, I still feel like that girl.
The calendar pages turned. My braces and glasses came off. My hair has been cut and grown again and cut and grown. I’ve lived in four additional states since then. My name has changed.
But have I?