18 days, 14 hours, and 53 minutes

I saw a photo of myself from freshman year

I didn’t love how I looked, cringed at it—a knee-jerk reaction to my ugly, green shoelaces—but not necessarily just because of my physical appearance

My mouth was open, teeth still crooked before the Invisalign—

I hadn’t cut my hair yet, hadn’t begun paying close enough attention to the pimples on my face—

I looked young, too, I guess—embarrassingly fifteen in a way that you don’t feel while living it

But no, it wasn’t that

I didn’t like it because I remembered

Who I was

How I felt

It hasn’t been seven years, so I still have the same skin I did at that time, but other than that we’re two different people

I leave for university in three weeks and while I know she would be desperate for the final release, stretched taut with anticipation like a worn out rubber band, I am living, very carefully, in every slow minute 

Tick tock

I can almost recall glancing at the clock while this picture was taken, impatience for the school day to be over leaking into my wide smile

Click click

But now I don’t even really set timers anymore

I just let the time pass, wring out every hour like a sponge 

I’m happy for her, happy for me

We are much prettier nowadays, in our peace and patience and calm