Throughout All My Phases

Sometimes it feels like I forget my own name—not in the sense that I truly don’t know it, but in the way that I forget who I am and what I’m doing with myself. I sink deeper and deeper into the earth. The soil, the grass, the ants, their homes—they share it with me for a while. I don’t think that’s the worst thing in the world, mostly because afterward, I find myself again. But other times, I forget where I left off and create a whole new version of myself—for me, and for the people around me to see, hear, and begin to love. Maybe they won’t like it. Maybe they’ll think the “new me” is weird, foolish, maybe even a little odd. But I know who I am. I know that what I’m going through is just a phase, and it will pass—like the storm clouds you see drifting in and out of the sky. They always come back, though—bigger or smaller, darker or lighter. Even the darkest gray clouds eventually return to white.

Like most people, I don’t always know who the new version of me will be, or how much of an impact that version’s choices will have on my future. One thing I do know for sure, though, is that there’s always at least one person who will accept you for who you are. Through the different stages, and through all the different people you become, they’ll be there—cheering you on.

That person for me is my boyfriend. I’m very lucky to have found that kind of love at such a young age—a supporter, a best friend, a lover, but most importantly, someone who never makes me question whether we’ll split or stay together forever. I’m always thanking everything for him: the universe, God, the sky. I know it might seem like a lot sometimes, but when it’s the right person, you don’t think twice about giving thanks.