We are HERE.
We're HERE and it's 13 and I'm worried.
I'm really worried.
I'm worried because I don't know what's coming next and if 12 taught me anything it was that predicting things is impossible impossible impossible.
I'm scared about the future, because it is big.
But it's okay.
It's okay, because I've got a lot of hopes:
I hope you're doing OK.
I hope you've got dreams up your sleeves and plans drawn in blue pencil, and datebooks that are full of important events, and I hope there are people you want to meet and talk to and laugh with and kiss and sleep with, and I hope there are clean socks, and nice showers. I hope the soap smells mighty fine, and that your siblings win at life.
I hope you get the girl, love the boy, live the dream.
I hope you learn how to pray, wear the false eyelashes, and don your party hats of newspaper and flowers.
I hope you go out, and I hope you get drunk.
I hope you get wasted.
I hope you write something nice, and I hope you make the right/wrong decision. And I hope you preserve your sense of self in this mad world, where everyone
pushes you and pulls you and pushes you and pulls you.
I hope you sleep well.
I hope you stay up until 3 am, talking under twinkle lights.
I hope you wear a pair of killer shoes, and help someone unexpected, and I hope you tell everyone how much you love them.
Because life is too short.
I hope you eat more breakfast tacos, and drink the right amount of coffee so that you're not anxious, just jazzed.
I hope you don't hurt too much.
I hope you're not lonely.
I hope you sing a lot.
I hope you figure it out.
I hope you are under the right disco ball in the right room in the right bar in the right city at the right time.
I hope 13 is lucky.
I hope it's a year to remember.