Retrospective chronology Options

[*islandgirl4eva*]

It's craptastic, but I'm psyched that I was finally able to write something, ANYTHING at all.

June twenty-first approaches and as I stare at the calendar and that encroaching day, I think back on yesteryear. Yes, I think back as far as I can remember.

At three my brother, Anthony, was born. I had become a big sister.
At four I had tea parties with my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle plushies.
At five I journeyed through to my first day of kindergarten, and cried for my mommy.
At seven I learned how to rollerblade and ride a bike without training wheels.
At ten I sobbed my heart out as we sang our "graduation" song to our mothers.
At eleven I stepped foot inside a middle school for the first time. I thought someone was going to shoot me.
I also hit puberty at eleven. Yes, very awkward indeed.
At thirteen I had my first REAL boyfriend, or so I thought. I also suffered the biggest betrayal I have yet to encounter.
At fourteen I moved overseas to my homeland, Guam. I dated a 19 year-old sailor in the Navy.
At fifteen I was gifted with the birth of a second brother, dearest Shawn. That very day he died three times. It wasn't only a struggle for his life, but for mine. It was the first time I harbored suicidal thoughts and/or intentions.
At sixteen my family moved back to Virginia. I met a boy and fell in love, and deeply so.
At seventeen I had my heart broken and handed back to me in pieces.
At eighteen I went to college and came back the same person I left as. I thought it was supposed to be life-changing. What a silly thought.

My life is still a work in progress. I'm constantly changing back and forth. To see it all laid out like that both frightens and encourages me. Eighteen years. It's been a lifetime - MY lifetime. The story is so short, and I've yet to reach my peak. I'm quite sure there are more adventures to be had. Many more times in which I'll give my heart away, and just as many, if not more, times that it'll come back crushed. Just as if my life were written in ink, there is no going back to redoing my mistakes. I have to look forward and fill these blank pages. Eighteen years - I'm ready for the next eighteen. Bring it on.