Young and careless,
Wild and free,
The definition of teens.
Where our perspective interprets our experiences,
And therefore our outlook on life. 
To reach enlightenment and choose ignorance upon strangers’ judgments and
Form memories that capture the heights of surreal bliss.
Those memories where the people in them stay the same, even when they begin to change. 
Responsibilities are to be prioritized, the aging process advances onwards, and new goals are set in the minds of each individual.
Those we were close to at one point in our lives, will start trekking on new pathways while you begin yours.Communication will be lost.
Connections, to be strained.
And as we progress forward in life, we still have those carefree memories before adulthood became a reality. 

A lesson we learn throughout our youthful years is to get up, head out, and have fun.

Friends have allowed me the opportunity to relish in happiness.
Knowing there are people I can turn towards for a brief intervention between reality and myself.
They are also the ones that will straighten my spine and push me outside the boundaries I’ve encircled myself within. 
They’re the little stars that shine when the darkness creeps in,
And they are the ones that braze boldenely to capture your attention,
Encompassing you into a trance that can make one forget the explicit darkness that encircles behind them.
To know you’re so deeply imbedded into their lives as they are to yours
Makes that connection infinitely beautiful.
The universe has aligned an individual such as yourself to come in the way of others,
To pull that cord tighter until greetings are exchanged, 
Then small talk,
And deep conversations,
And endless laughter prolonging itself to the earliest hours of dawn.

A girl scales down the pages of various novels
And finds comfort in each world she plummets into,
To find solace in between the crinkly pages,
And meet characters who are thoroughly flawed, 
To experience the triumphs, the sorrows, the thrill-inducing adventures that leave her on the edge of her seat.
And if there was a chance to wipe her memory slate clean in order to experience everything again, she would take that chance, 
To once again feel the wind tussle her hair as she stands atop the snowy peaks towering in the backdrop of Velaris, the city of dreams and starlight, 
To wander down the cobblestone streets of the Ballenger’s territory
Where the busiest trade of the continent occurs with businesses of all sorts — assassins, trade, knowledge — taking place in dark alleyways or furnished taverns, 

A wound that cuts deeper than swords poised at a villain’s neck, signaling the end of their impending demise .
But this time, the wound was inflicted by serpents that lashed out with their teeth.
Blood streams down the collateral wound at a swift pace.
No pressure would be able to staunch the heavy flow.
No wrapping could secure any reasoning in that particular moment.
The red rain drips heavily down upon the grassy terrain below.
The memories of what were, and the hopes of what could have been decimated upon impact with the now decaying land.
There was no telling if the spotty patches of grass used to be vibrant and lively.
Thunder could be heard overhead.
It’s rockity pattern sounding eerily similar to that of a body heaving,
Almost like it was crying that resulted in the unpredictable timing of the thunder.
It was evident that Spring would not kiss the aching skies above or lend a warming touch to the shaky ground below.

It was on those rare nights when my mother, after working long shifts, reserved a portion of her energy to comply with my request for a bedtime story. I don’t remember the book I picked out. It wasn’t the grandest thing on my mind, as I was too preoccupied with savoring the moment that many of my companions at preschool talked about often. I barely brought up anything during conversations like those, but nonetheless, I would eagerly listen to the intimate connections my classmates had with their parents.

If I was graciously handed the opportunity to create a sixth sense, whilst defying all odds, I would choose the ability to sense imminent danger that capitalizes on the gut instinct. From a very young age, our parents have thoroughly implemented methods and strategies to best protect oneself, but it’s entirely up to our judgement to sense if there’s prevailing danger lurking around the near corner. It’s a constant back and forth guessing game consisting of steady prayers until we step through the threshold that we call home. We not only wish for the safety of our wellbeing, but for those who are close to our hearts too. There have been cruel actions done in our world with little to no justice served for victims. The usefulness of knowing instantly that we’re in place of danger will prompt our acknowledgement and evoke a response well before facing the dilemma at hand .

Throughout my childhood and into my adolescent years, I knew my life wasn’t the standard of normal that comes into mind when we think upon what a normal childhood of a young girl would look like. Playdates with close friends and family outings were rarities and blessings to me. But on the other hand, I’ve spent many hours confined to the bustling kitchen allocated in my family’s restaurant. Helping my family keep the business running regularly has occasionally been a very rewarding experience but it can quickly become a hefty weight that settles down on me. Maintaining education, attending sport practices, and working at the restaurant has taken its toll on me. Missing time with my friends and the difficulty of finding time to see them has had me grinding my molars more often than not. From my childhood, I’ve learned to navigate obstacles by myself. The overwhelming feeling of resentment and responsibility were becoming troublesome the more I pushed it to the back of my mind. 

There they sat, in all their glittering glory, far across the room from me.
The possibilities and remnants of what could have been.
The hidden potentials I would never have the pleasure to redeem.
They sat proud and tall across the vast empty chamber,
Showing glimpses of my success, in various degrees of my own making, as my eyes wandered to each clone of myself.  
Each individual replica exuded victory over their accomplishments that got them to where they are now. 
I could feel the pride radiate from them, and it was a contagious feeling. 
One that made me want to chase after them and become their entire being. 
But I no longer had the chance to embody any of these versions of myself. 
All because I didn’t start somewhere.
During the years of my living, I never pushed myself to discover.
I never went out of my comfort to make myself uncomfortable.

I want to thank the voice in my head.
The voice that stays confined in my headspace and communicates solely with me.
The one that whispers to me in the dark and coaxes me out towards the light.
The very voice that reminds me to stand up and keep hacking away at the obstacles in my current pathway.
The one that doesn’t give up on me when I want to cave into a pit of despair.
This voice rationalizes and strategizes my next moves of the day,
And uplifts me to pour my heart and soul into things that bring me happiness.
Without the constant pushing, I wouldn’t be on the pathway I am today.

I want to thank the body that has been behind all the actions I’ve done to date.
All the running on trails that have led to rewarding mountaintops could never have been done if it weren’t for my body putting forth one foot in front of the other.  
I’m able to help out my family’s restaurant which requires standing for hours on end.

Many of us can relate with bitter indifference to the approaching winter season. 
The sunlight steadily retreats beneath the horizon,
And the last of the sun’s rays follow with it.
Leaving a facade constructed of shadows long forgotten in the farthest reaches of the world.
With the darkest hours that lay siege upon us.
Come along the brisk temperatures that leave our children with red noses.
Similar to the tint of an infamous reindeer’s snout. 
It’s effortless to resent the factors associated with winter’s approach that we often overlook the minuscule joys implemented throughout the season.
The season calls forth hot drinks topped with bountifuls of whip cream.
Although, we aren’t sure how much whip cream is consumed as traces of it are smeared on the upper lip,
Applied to children and adults alike.
Snowmens,
Some stout, or stubby, a few that stand unfathomably tall,