The Eight and a Teen

The Eight and a Teen

 

 

She felt the burst of guilt

When a child’s whisper become a sweet tune that keeps replaying on her recorder,

Then fades into a language of responsibility,

 

Eighteen.

A number that feels too heavy for the lightness of her heart,

A crown she didn’t ask for but somehow wears it anyway.

 

Eighteen�"a number dense with meaning,
a line drawn between childhood and something else.
Something bigger.
Something scarier.

 

Her fingers tremble, tracing the edges of this new world,
wondering if it’s hers to claim.

The mirror no longer reflects a child but she can still see the fragile her�"

one touch and she’ll be a broken glass on the floor.

 

Eighteen, is it a door or a cage?

Is it a promise or a weight?

She might stay inside like a bud of flower

The sun presses in and the wind hums their melody with the weight of her new beginnings

But she stays curled, a bud afraid to bloom

She feels the pull of the earth beneath her, the pull of the sky above,

but she is frozen in the space between what is and what could be.
The world whispers,
Open.

 

Eighteen�"
a number that feels like sunlight warming the earth,
but she is not ready to let the light touch her.
Her edges are still uncertain,
her shape still half-formed,
and though she can feel the pull of something larger,
she holds herself close,
like a secret too heavy to share.

 

She stands on the edge of everything,
a foot in the past,
a foot in the future,
her heart caught between the two,

tugged by the pull of what could be,
and held back by the weight of what she still is.

 

Adulthood stands before her�" vast, unknown

Like an ocean she expected to swim but no one taught her how

 

But the time yet stood still

It’ll come after her somehow,

The chasing and running still adorn the risks and possibilities of what future holds for her

 

 

Eighteen�" it sounds like freedom but it feels like a trap

Even so, it is an inevitable pin down when it’s the time your clashing to.

The world itself were against her protest,

even the sun won’t take a day off for her rants.

 

She stand with the weight of all that she have feared and let it fall

She let something else take root�"

 something soft and staedy.

Something that understands the beauty in surrenders

the ‘her’ beyond this point whispers the answers she seeks

The past that she has shaped and the future that pulls her forward.

With trembling hands,
with a heart that wasn’t quite sure,
she let the petals unfurl.
She opened�" slowly at first,
tentatively,
as if testing the air,
but the warmth was there,
waiting for her,like sunlight after rain.

 

She bloomed�"
not because she had all the answers,
but because she understood that becoming was not about knowing everything,
but about accepting that it would be enough.

And as she stood there,
in the light of her own bloom,
she knew she was ready.
She was the girl,
and now she was the woman,
unfolding,
becoming,
and finally, accepting all the beauty in the mess of it all.

 

Eighteen�"
it wasn’t a door closing,
but a threshold she could step across.
The fear didn’t disappear, but she carried it like a seed,
letting it grow into something new.
She wasn’t ready for everything, but that didn’t matter.
She was ready to begin