You thought at 12, that when you were 16, Life was good.
At 16, people had boyfriends and girlfriends. They bunked classes and had fun. They smoked, they ran away. They rebelled. All in a frenzy of leather jackets and sloppily applied, yet proudly-worn makeup. At 16, they broke hearts and wore all black and adults looked at them differently.
At 16, you struggle with your grades and hope that the guy you like will bother to remember that you exist. At 16, you stutter and have acne. You start thinking that being fat is wrong and that everyone knows you’re ugly but never told you.
At 16, you feel complicated feelings and nobody cares. Or so it seems.
At 16, adults stop hiding. At 16, you see how ugly people really are, and think that soon, you too will be like that.
But you have hope that being 18 will be a much better experience.
The future you laughs in the distance.