four hours before thirteen.

hell yes.im turning thirteen.

the twelve years of me, being a twelve year old girl who doesn't really look twelve is coming to an end. but why is everyone so happy about that? is me, finally turning thirteen matter that much? HELLO. i dont need the attention. everyone turns thirteen.enough about that.

twelve years isn't so long. it doesnt even feel like TWELVE YEARS. know what i mean? like it was just last week.(right now im talking like my mom. my goodness gracious.) my twelve years was spent playing with the freaking crayons, telling lies, making stories, fussing over a lost pencil, noticing how my hair resemble mickey mouse, making the lives of those who hate me miserable just by existing, trying to make things right, breaking promises and stupid hearts, getting my hopes up then watch it go down again, staring at someone i dont really know, dreaming, complaining, making music, holding on, believing, trying to get what was never mine, making everyone believe that i know who i am, finding myself, failing people, falling apart, and things.so much for being alive.

but im turning thirteen.

i live.

im here.

i'll stay.

nothing more to say.

i'll be here.

i'll let you hear.

no, listen.

yeah, listen.

i'll live to see another day.

hell yeah.im turning thirteen.