and now you’re 18, the age which you swore you’d be okay by. at 17 you started to doubt if you’d ever be okay, but surprisingly, you are okay. you never saw it coming either. you were laying in bed, twisted up in sheets, quietly realizing that it had been ages since you last cried yourself to sleep. and you’re wondering why you let all those little things hurt you when you were 14, wondering why you let people take advantage of you at 15, wondering why on earth you never expected to survive another year at 16. and it’s not that you’re never sad anymore, it’s just that you’re no longer consumed by your own sadness. and you’re 18 now, worse things have happened than bad breakups and frizzy hair, mama cries more often and prays for a gentler hand on your family. so for the first time, you’ve become a rock, making light of the worst situations. at 18, you always expected to be okay, running through fields of flowers, grown up, beautiful, everything laid out for you, making all the right decisions and loving all the right people, all with a perpetual grin on your face. and nothing’s like that, you’re confused, lost, unsure, carrying the weight of your own potential on your aching shoulders, you still don’t have your life laid out, and you still cry about the little things. but for the first time in your life you’re okay. you’re truly okay.
18. |(Morsus Engel)| (via actuates)
