"If I Knew How To"

When I was seventeen, I was an obnoxious little snot who had an opinion about everything. I don't think I like my seventeen-year-old self, but at least she's better than my fifteen-year-old self who hated her parents and refused to do anything. I don't know why they didn't kill me, but I'm glad they were merciful, because they allowed me to grow into someone I'm becoming more comfortable with.

But seventeen wasn't all bad. I got to be the Laurel class president, and as such, I got a whole gaggle of girls who I suppose looked up to me. I hope they did, because they would pepper me with questions, and I did my best to be a good example and to offer them answers.

Seventeen has come back to hit me in the face recently. It's changed a bit: I'm not as strident, not as impatient, and my ear isn't used so much for spiritual matters as it is for secular now. And with these changes, I have found an opportunity to be stretched further than I ever thought possible and to descend into levels of fatigue I never knew existed. I haven't always been pleased with my reactions or my selfishness, but I am learning. And I am trying not to hate the darker side of humanity. I just hope people forgive me for what I have been in the past and look instead to what I am trying to become.

I also hope that I never have to count higher than nineteen, but that doesn't look like it will happen. When I do, though, I will at least do it humanely and with all the compassion I have. Even if I appear cold and heartless to some.