I sit here in a plain white room. I begin to wonder what I am making out of my life, am I making my life as pleasant as tea in the garden of an English mansion, or as broken as an old abandoned junkyard? Am I proud of what I've become, or ashamed? Will I be a successful mother and wife, living in the country side, enjoying my every breath, or will I be sitting home alone miserable, frightened of what lays behind my front door? I can honestly sit here and say I don't know. I'm not too sure if I should be proud of my past, or ashamed. I don't know if my life is pleasant or broken. I certainly don't know if I will be a loving mother and wife, or if I'll be a miserable old brute. The truth is, I am sixteen. I am far too young to be scared of my future or to be regretting my past. I cannot get myself to understand why people push me to fear the future, life is about making mistakes, failing, getting hurt and then building yourself into a strong, beautiful person. I am not the kind to cry over a bad hair day, it's only hair. I am not the kind to whine about how "fat" I look, I FEEL beautiful inside. I definitely am not the kind to choose popularity over real friends and family, there is a reason I consider people as friends, I am not ready to let them go. I believe people judge me before truly getting to know me, and it hurts, sometimes I don't show it, but it really does hurt; But I have experienced too much pain to let it destroy me, so I let it pass. I will not be stuck on a certain thing, I don't want to be on the same old shore when I can be on the ship, sailing to a new adventure.

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