has come and it soon will pass
I will be “one year older.”
Some piece of me is sad, eighteen was exciting
and exhilarating and cool and birthdays always make me a little sad.
Because pre-eighteen I was young and
post-eighteen I am young and old in new ways.
Because being eighteen I learned so much
and forgot a lot.
I loved so much, and hated a lot too (we all have, I think).
I traced infinity signs into my arms and reminded myself that
nothing is infinite.
Although sometimes, I wish it was.
Because pre-eighteen I was a “child” and now
Because one year older means absolutely nothing.
And absolutely everything.