Growing up

When I had to make the decision to move 650 miles away at the age of 11,

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When I was 13 getting told I didn't matter and I wasn't loved by the man who was my stepdad at the time,

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When going into my freshman year I looked death in the eyes and said hello,

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When I was 14 and had my head shoved under the covers to finish off my "boyfriend",

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When I greeted the doors of the psych hospital like a friend in the hallway,

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When my relationship revolved around lust that was mistaken for love and the breakup resulted in the deepest of scars,

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When I went through senior year trying to figure out who I was and how to fix the wounds that refused to heal, 

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When I received my diploma and had walked the same stage as my family had,

I knew I wasn't a kid anymore.

When I have to look my parents in the eyes and say goodbye before they travel 10 hours back to what we call home,

I know I won't be a kid anymore.