i’m thirteen, it’s june and i just walked across the stage, she hands me my diploma. The sun beats down on me, like when i was eight and we didn’t have an air conditioner. i’m ten and my mom is walking me to school, she forces me to hug my sister goodbye on the blacktop. i’m seven and i cartwheel on the grass, but i can’t walk in my handstand yet. i’m twelve and i spent an entire year at home, talking to my friends through a screen. i’m fourteen and i feel like quitting my english class after tears fall down my cheeks. i’m eleven and this is my first time flying internationally. it’s rainy and humid in asia, the fruit is riper there. i’m three and i walk into preschool at seven a.m. to eat breakfast and learn how to zip up my own jacket. i’m fifteen and i glare at the grey hair on my dad’s scalp. i’m fifteen and it feels like i’m drowning in a sandy hourglass. i’m fifteen and i wonder have i have missed an opportunity, will i regret anything? bitterness is a timeless feeling, one i’m familiar with. i’m fifteen and i feel like time is chasing me.
