Introduction

18.

A number.

A small number.

This is the number of years I have been among the living.

This number, the numbers before it and below it have caused me grief, frustration, exasperation, and the persistent questioning of others.

Why does age seem to define a person in their acquaintances' eyes?

Some say age is just a number.

Some place it on a pedestal, the higher the number the more respect is granted.

The amount of years you are alive does not necessarily make you any more knowledgeable that anyone lower on the ladder of life.

I am tired of attempting to explain myself, my actions, my thoughts.

I make mistakes. I do. I could have said everyone makes mistakes, but I can only be accountable for my own.

I have many sides. I am a tetrahedron. Please stop questioning me. All of you.

I just want to live. I can't tell you what's going on in my head, I know what is, and that's all that matters to me.

I just wanted to say this to all of you. Know it. I don't need to waste what little time I have on this rock explaining myself.

I've always said that I was a 48 yr old stuck in a teen's body. Nobody wants or cares to hear that. It's stupid.

I know myself. Me and only me knows myself. I can tell you things about myself, but you won't ever know me like I do.

That's it.
You might be saying something like, "Ohh, Laurel, you're such a teenager."

I've stopped responding to that. You people push my buttons far to much. You can think whatever you want to about me and my so called, "teenager ways." Just know that I don't care to hear about it. Kindly keep it to yourself.

Whatever I do or say is "teenager". And when I'm 40 everyone will think that everything I do is "middle-aged". Does it even matter?

Why does this matter? Why do all the stupid small mildly negative things matter?

You break a glass. In your entire life, will you always remember that glass breaking? Highly doubtful. It's nothing to be upset about. It's just a glass.

Just remember that it's just a glass.


Laurel