The Avocado and Me

Life's been a little rocky lately. The last couple of weeks have contained within them some highs, greatly outnumbered by pretty significant lows, and I haven't been in a super good place. I've been depressed. I've been in a lot of doctor's offices, and to a lot of therapy appointments. I haven't been a great friend or family member. I've missed too much school, and as a result, didn't do so hot on my last math test. Math's hard enough as it is. Add a typhoon of mental health struggles? Turns out, sometimes not even Khan Academy can offer enough help.  But today, I'm okay. And I'm proud of that.  I try to write here only when I'm in a relatively good head-space. Words have a lot of power, and I never want mine to come from dark or sad places. I think it's also important to note that I'm a lot more honest in writing than I am in real-life. Typing on a Chromebook to an audience, mostly of people I don't know? That'...

Tomorrow, I'm sixteen. That feels really weird to say. See, over the years, I've heard and read and watched so much about this particular birthday. It's supposed to be a big one. You can drive! There are giant sweet sixteen parties! Dating and risks and new adventures! It's the age right on the cusp of childhood and adulthood; you have so many more liberties, but get to keep (most of) the luxuries and safeties that come with being a kid. This is the age of practically every teen rom-com in the history of ever. I remember being little and wondering who I'd be when I was sixteen. It just felt so far away, as real to who I was then as planets whose names I didn't know. I wondered how tall I'd be. Would I be dating someone? I thought about who my friends would be. Whether my hair would still be blonde, or would darken to brown like my mom's had. And, most importantly, I was curious whether or not my life's ambition would still be to paint coffee mugs ...