Letter to Myself

Dear 14 year old self,
You lived through high school, surprisingly enough. It isn't so bad either. Your Junior and Senior year, you only have to go half a day. That may be what saved us, or you, or the future you, I suppose. We always want information about our future, so this is what you're getting. After high school, you make it to college. You're tempted to make a fool of yourself on a regular basis, but most of the time your reason and good judgment win. In college, we have done some crazy things. You'll get hurt by a friend, only to find that that hurt will lead you to something amazing. All in a single semester, you will become a different, more mature person. Why am I telling you all of this, knowing that you will eventually find out? Because I want you to realize what I couldn't. Everything that happens is just a building block to make you into the person that you can be happy with. Don't grow up to fast. Don't hate the world, because the rest of the world is standing in similar shoes to the ones you are wearing now, trying hard to become who they need to be. Spend more time doing what you love, and being who you are. Welcome to your life.
--Your older, wiser self.
=)

The Library on Leonard Street

For some reason, parts of my not so distant past are slightly blurred. In some instances, distant memories linger, usually somewhat insignificant occurrences.Mostly, all I can remember are little pieces of time, that to the younger me were just boring, however, looking back I can see that they were the times that made me who I am today.
The house on Leonard Street was beautiful. It was white, two stories and it even had a basement. The rooms were large and they all seemed to have, at least in my slightly distorted younger mind, huge lighting fixtures. I think that they may have been smaller, but we can pretend. Large window in every room allowed the natural light to come in and take over. I remember the huge basement with the green concrete floors. My brother and I would put on our roller skates and race each other around the room. We thought we were something special.
Out of all the things that I remember about that house, the library is the most prominent. You see, my Grandma lived with us, we both had our own rooms, but I really don't even remember what my room looked like, but I could tell you every detail about that library. Book shelves lined the walls, the were slightly higher than floor level. The two carpeted steps leading to the shelves were well worn. There were two sofas in our library, both white with blue vertical stripes. Mamaw and I lived in that library. It was our home. That's why I can't remember our rooms, I can't quite recall the kitchen or the living room. That library, however, was amazing. Hank the Cowdog. I don't know if you ever read those, I really don't even remember what they were about, I think Hank may have been a detective dog. That's not what was important though. That library, in the huge, white house on Leonard Street was my favorite room out of any house that we have ever lived in. That room had the largest impact on the person I have become because that is where my love of books really began.