I used to know a little girl. She spent the entirety of her days swinging back and forth on the worn down swing set her mother worked so hard to get for her birthday one year. She collected caterpillars wondering why they always ended up dead by morning. She was oblivious to the world around her, and yet she was happy.
She had bigger dreams than her little hands could hold. She wanted to be a singer “like Taylor Swift.” She even wanted to be an astronaut at one point. Her mother described her as free, a little wild even. And that she was.
This girl knows the best parts of me. She praises them when no one else notices them. This girl knows the worst parts of me as well, yet she smiles at them even. She excepts them both, and comforts me when no one else will. She sends little messages to me that help me to keep my head up.
I’ve grown up from this girl, but I miss being young like her. How everyday was a new adventure. I miss the simplicity of it all. She was the voice in my head that told me I was beautiful when the rest of the desperate voices begged to differ. She got me through the walls I never thought I could break through. She helped me to grow into the person I am today.
I had forgotten about this girl for a while, but she never forgot about me. When I believed I was alone, crying on my own, she was the only one that saw. She was there. I now realize that she has always been there for me, telling me that I’m okay. I’ll always be okay.
I guess this is a little appreciation blog for the girl that shaped me into me. Her drive and imagination has taken me to places I never knew I could go. She not only took me places, but she taught me how to love the one person that’s the hardest to love: myself.
