Fifteen years ago on this day, a little girl was born.
She started out innocent and sweet. She found a love for books, fantasy, and romance. She learned about loyalty and perserverance. She learned to trust God in all things. She felt invincible, but, slowly, life caught up to her.
She felt out of place at school: her weight, her style, her accent. She fell for guys a lot (foolishly), made a lot of mistakes, and became a hollow shell. Bleak, dejected, and broken.
Fifteen years ago, that girl wasn’t broken.
Fifteen years ago, that girl was me.
Today, that girl knows that love is truly awesome and awaits her day to walk down the aisle. She tries harder to accept herself and chooses to ignore the judgements of others. She remembers the importance of friends and family. She never lost her love of books, fantasy, or romance. She has a dream to become an author whose books people will fangirl and threaten her over. Because it shows they care. None of this is to say that girl isn’t broken anymore. She still is. But she tries. That girl still craves the attention that her old boyfriends gave her, but she’s willing to wait.