Dear younger me,
I liked you more with your childish cares and fearless devotion. I miss you, or rather me, I miss the version of me that was never self conscious just self aware. That never noticed people staring or just simply didn't Care.
I miss the version of me who didn't know what it meant to be different. Where little boys and little girls were just that and the fairytales hadn't ended.
See because you were never afraid to sing or cry, to dance like no one was watching or to laugh like the joke would go on forever. You were happy.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry that growing up meant burying you and your smiles in the sandbox. I'm sorry I traded our Barbies for selfish little boys and our play time for fake smiles. And I'm sorry I took the bold beautiful girl you once were and turned her into me.
