You are 15. 

You take a leap and decide to dye your hair blue.

But only the ends.

You’re afraid of losing a piece of yourself to something you’ve never done before.

You are 18.

You run away to the creek near your house.

But leave as soon as you hear sirens.

You’re afraid of being so selfish that someone else gets hurt. 

You are 21.

You have your first drink with your parents.

But only one.

You’re afraid of going too far and becoming someone you don’t know. 

You are 23.

The birthday candles blaze – the first cake in years that you actually accepted with relatively open arms. 

There are streamers and balloons and cards, a birthday similar to ones you’ve had before, yet different in so many ways. And more than that, there are people.

Your mother who birthed you and carried you through the pain of this world, taught you there was beauty and strength and perseverance in being kind. Your father, whose big laugh and even bigger heart carries stories and lessons that nurtured you through the years. Your brother, his stoic nature and kind soul having been a companion to you through everything. And your grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and loved ones, all there to celebrate you, no matter how hard things have been. 

You are now almost 24. 

You realize that one drink will not be the end of you. That you don’t have to run away anymore. That you have the ability to do what you want and be who you want.

That being afraid will hold you back, and you’ve spent far too long being held by something that does not deserve you.