“You’re not a baby anymore.”

This was something I grew up hearing.

“You’re not a baby anymore.”

Once I hit 5th grade, was when my pimples started to come in.

“You’re not a baby anymore.”

6th grade, where the negative thoughts started.

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

The sentence started to change.

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

7th grade, the year where the bullies really started getting in my head.

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

8th grade, I no longer felt my own emotions.

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

Instead, I only felt what others felt.

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

9th grade, the year where I lost the most friends.

“You’re not a kid anymore, Ty.”

I know...

“You need to act more mature.”

I’m just trying to be funny...

“You need to realize that you can’t help everyone.”

But I can do my best to help as many people as I can…

“There will be people out there that will hurt you.”

You don’t think I already know that?

“You can do better than this, Ty.”

But I’m trying so hard!

“You can do better than this, Ty.”

I know!

“You can do better than this, Ty.”

I’m trying!

“You are better than this. ”

Am I?

Am I truly as good as you say I am?

Am I really a good student?

Am I really a good daughter?

The year I realized I was grown, was the year I really started to second guess myself.

The year that hit me with a tsunami of negative words and phrases.

The year where I really felt my world tumbling down the tallest mountain.

The year of youth.

I was nine years old.