The most beautiful an rewarding things are not going to come by easy... Its going to completly hate every moment of fustration... Your going to want to find a way to make it even just the slightest bit easier... Your going to get angry... And just when you get to the poont were you are ready to jist give up compeltly.. At whatever that level of compeltly is... Your going to finally realize... Had that aha moment... And even though your gonna ask yourself why you jist couldnt get it before... You respond no i needed the journey to understand..
But whatever you do.. Celebrate the victory .. But do not forget to continue your journey... You got it now... Keep getting it... Keep growing... Keep learning... Dont slack off just because you had your aha moment... You have to learn how to keep it... So you can continue to grow... Remeber how long it took you to ths moment... It may take even longer for you to finish it...
And remember your worth every blood sweet an tear it brought out in you
i woke up expecting adulthood to hit me like a ton of bricks. unfortunately, life didn't hit that hard. i woke up nude in my bed and confused as to why it felt like it was a hundred degrees in my room. my neighbors were at my door with a cake, which i hastily threw clothes on to retrieve. the rest of the day was a haze of birthday wishes via facebook, email, texts, and instagram. my friends plotted when to post their instagrams, in order to receive the most likes. pathetic, i thought to myself. i felt alone with my thoughts all day. i sat in my bed, like any other lazy day, reading bullshit facebook articles and netflixing shameless nonstop. as soon as the sun went down, i felt pathetic. pathetic for sitting in my room all day, doing absolutely nothing. wasting time. making it to eighteen years of life being useless. oh, and by the way, my family and i weren't going for dinner--my sister couldn't make it. she was too sick. nothing felt okay until my mom came home. she brought me flowers. i excused myself to shower--i had been sitting all day in my own grease and felt gross. everyone let me go with tension building in the air. 'don't you want a glass of wine, som?' my mom inquired hesitantly, knowing that it was the only gift i'd accept. but i declined and retreated, tail between my legs. i turned on the hot stream of water, released my hair from its bun, and let my face shrivel like a prune, reverting back to the face i made when i entered the world eighteen years ago. i cried in the shower for a while, letting the salty streams trail down my face as i rubbed shampoo through my scalp. nobody cared that it was my birthday, and it was now 5 pm, and i had done absolutely nothing since 10 am. nobody cared that i hated this town, and this house, and i hated everyone that i felt like i had to ask for permission for everything i did from eating to sleeping, and i would give anything to leave for college at this moment in time. it didn't matter to anybody except me, not even my boyfriend. all i wanted was my mom home from work, where she always is. i felt the numbness that hits when i need her around most and she never, ever, is, because she's working. eventually i gave up on crying because i knew my eyes would be a bright red, and the excuse of shampoo in the eyes wouldn't matter to anybody, because mothers have powers beyond fathers. i stepped out of the water into the steam. my mother came in, although i was naked. she doesn't care about that ever, says, 'i gave birth to you.' i always say, 'my body's changed a lot since birth, mom.' "i'm sorry that your birthday wasn't what you wanted it to be, som." "it's okay," i reply curtly. "it's just a birthday." "yeah, but you're eighteen. it's a big deal." i rub hair product through my hair and try very hard not to cry. she continues to speak. " i told them you and i could go for dinner. they didn't seem too keen on that, though." "it's fine. we'll just go on wednesday." "not like we could get a couple of cosmos at the bar. unless we were in england, then we could." this raises a smile out of me, and the weight of sadness that presses on me so hard and so often begins to lift. i start to comb my hair. "cara just texted me. she's asking if i ever get g a valentine's day gift. i told her i don't because of my birthday and my working on valentine's day all day." i continue to comb knots out of my hair. "i think she's asking for cioffi." "yeah, tell her not to." i turn to her. "well, they're..." i pause, gaze in the mirror. "...not as sophisticated. they would do valentine's day. they don't recognize it as a fake holiday." mom returns my gaze through the glass with understanding.
after i'm clean and brushed, i emerge to the kitchen to see a setup at the table: my flowers, a glass of red, and two presents. 18 screams the letters on a blue envelope, stacked on a pile of many. "and this must be from alicia," i grin, lifting it from the stack to open. "no, actually," my mom smiles earnestly, "it's from me." i raise my eyebrows in satisfied excitement. "wow, mom's upped her pinterest game," i say, glancing at her, laughter dancing on my lips. i open each card, reading their messages (don't get into trouble, reads alicia's, and i react in faux astonishment), and we do cake (ice cream and rice krispie--gluten free is no walk in the park). after cake, my parents laugh and recount my birth, a two day rendezvous that involved many complications. "it was like small baby, small baby, small baby, LARGE YELLOW BABY," cries my dad when he recalls laying eyes on me in the hospital. this is more for him and my mother than me. they laugh until tears form in the corners of their eyes, and i watch on. later, i drink wine and snapchat my boyfriend, who chuckles at my mildly tipsy state. i don't expect the call that comes from him, though. "hey," he draws out. the words bring a grin to my rosy face. "hi," i reply. "what's up?" we shoot the shit about his day, his stats test tomorrow, how much he hates our mutual friend's girlfriend. i love when he says that--i hate her too, for a host of reasons. the call begins to wrap up. "i thought i'd call for little sommy girl's birthday," he says in a baby voice, and i picture him rubbing my head and cradling me close, like i know he'd do in person. i start to feel sentimental. "i love you," i say, and i hope my tone conveys how much i mean it. "i love you too. happy birthday," he says. we both say our goodbyes, then hang up. eventually he calls again, passing the phone around to his friends, who tell me happy birthday and joke around with me until he snatches the phone back, light jealously in his voice when he answers me. and now i'm here, eighteen years on this earth. eighteen years of words left unsaid, and feeling so much, and saving up words for feelings i cannot name. a lifetime of this. i hope to encapsulate all i feel, from here on out. life is messy, but it is beautiful.