She was right-
And she typically wasn’t about many things back then.
But that girl in me saw something deep behind soft blue eyes and brown curls;
She saw depth and the idea of comfort behind silly jokes and friends who mocked her over a long leg joke.
‘That’s so weird to say, where did you even come up with that.’ They’d asked,
But it was more about the strength I saw in you than your legs themselves.
You stood tall even though I knew you had more going on than you’d admit,
Hurt people recognize hurt people and-
they hurt them too.
But fifteen year old me was right-
And she sits soft and proud and grounded inside of me while making ‘eighth grade me is so happy right now.’ jokes to you on my couch.
Time is a beautiful thing.
The woman in me now gets to watch those legs walk through my front door sometimes.
That fifteen year old girl saw strength and softness through pain and now?
The twenty eight year old woman in me gets to choose to love it.
