One day I looked in the mirror and I no longer saw the little girl with crooked teeth, a faceful of freckles, messy auburn braids, and an armful of books.
Somehow along the way the little girl grew up. She lost her dreams and her eyes that used to shine so bright, didn’t shine anymore. She hid her freckles and insecurities behind a mask of makeup and hated the frizzy mess of waves on her head.
As I looked in the mirror I realized I didn’t like the girl I had become. I’d like to say I changed right then and there, but it took alot of lonely nights and tears to finally get the light back in my eyes.
My birthday was this past week. It was an amazing day filled with laughter, food, and hugs. I’m another year older, the little girl I used to be is long ago left behind in a world of technicolor rainbows, fairy-tales, stories about cowboys and Indians, and cotton candy clouds.
But I’m still me, I’m still that little girl with the bright eyes and great big dreams. I don’t look like a little girl anymore, but people have said that if you look close enough you can still see glimpses of the wild little thing who didn’t care what anyone thought, and ran through grassy fields screaming from the top of her lungs about how amazing and horrible life was all at once. (Wait…I still do that)
I don’t have a clue where I’m taking my life, what I’ll do, or where I’m going. I’d like to think I’m on my way to finding out though. It hasn’t been easy, but in all the ups and downs, the trials, wrong turns, and misadventures, I’ve found myself again.
It’s kind of funny how that works. How sometimes you have to lose yourself to find yourself.
This post really doesn’t have a point besides me rambling. Now, when I look in the mirror I see someone with scars and a girl with bright eyes who lost the mask of makeup and embraced her frizzy hair, because all of those things, every freckle-makes me, me.
And sometimes I kind of like me.