Everything has changed in two years
Two years ago today, I wrote the note.
It’s still in a box under my bed and sometimes I pull it out to remember I’m alive.
Two years and three days ago was the worst birthday I ever had.
I wanted to be dead
I was so tired of existing
I didn’t know if what I was even counted as such.
At my dinner my mom asked why I was wearing long sleeves.
She half jokingly asked if I was still tearing my skin open.
I lied and smiled and ate my pie.
A day later a boy tried to pressure me into things I didn’t want to do.
A year and five days ago I got in the worst fight with my parents I’ve ever known.
I dont know what it was about.
I just know I felt unloved and unknown.
A year and 11 months ago I met a girl who showed me what love is.
Never ceasing to check up on me, a true example of encouragement, a friend who’s house I spent innumerable nights crying at.
Two months later was the last time my skin tore open.
A year and 10 months ago I got a tattoo as a reminder that light is still there.
A year and four months ago I drove by myself to a camp, completely out of character.
I felt loneliness die and I felt like I might believe truth again.
A year and one month ago I was broken up with for the first time.
It didn’t hurt like I thought it would.
I knew I was whole without him even if I was very sad.
363 days ago was the best birthday I’ve ever had.
It didn’t go as planned and I didn’t get to see my family, but my best friend told me she was proud of me and I saw my favorite band live at the university I now live at.
Nine months ago on New Year’s Eve I got drunk with friends and family and posted a sappy picture on Instagram about how happy I was.
I was mocked for it later by someone who’s opinion matters a lot to me.
Seven months ago I decided to leave the school I had been at for two years.
I applied somewhere else.
I didn’t get in.
Six months ago I realized the love I have for running.
Five months ago everything about my future was up in the air.
I had plans to move, but where would I live?
I felt so afraid, but where were my friends?
Four months ago I cried the entire three hour drive to camp.
No one cared that I was leaving.
I didn’t know why I felt so empty still.
I felt alone the first week.
I thought it couldn’t be right.
Where was the joy once found in this place?
Two weeks later I became best friends with the best person to ever enter my life.
She listens and affirms and empathizes and builds up.
We cried over song lyrics and movie trailers and screamed about boys and talked till dawn about God’s goodness.
Two months ago on Tuesday a friend and coworker passed away.
I have never seen so much pain than then in the eyes of people I call family.
I have never seen so much joy than in the place of healing we were all in together.
One months ago I cried as the boy I grew to love as a brother and friend drove away as camp ended.
I stayed up all night laying on the deck with a new friend and talking about anything.
I drove home the next day having my entire heart still at camp and with the people who also had been there.
Three weeks ago I moved.
I live with three girls I don’t know.
My best friend is in a different city.
She’s doing amazing things and is excited for her future, as am i.
The girl who showed me what love means gets married next month.
One of my best friends is in love with a boy who told her he wants to pursue the Lord together, in addition to each other.
My long time best friend is happier than he’s ever been.
He’s thriving.
It’s incredible.
My brother is building his future.
I’m so proud.
I have a group of friends who pursue me with love and accountability.
I turn 21 in three days.
I will be happy.
I am full.
I am real.
I am loved.
Two years ago today I kept living.
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