To the 8 year old me

I remember when your ribs were made of markers,
the permanent kind not the washable ones.
And your sternum was cemented together with soggy valentines and candy wrappers,
when your pockets were filled with finger paint
and your wet fingertips itched to find anything white.
 I remember when your heart had everything glued to it from cheerios to gold star stickers
along with glitter wedged in the wrinkles and folds of everything.
I remember after reciting the alphabet by yourself in front of the class
you threw up your self esteem for the first time
and I remember you coughed up your humiliation for the next 2 weeks.
I hate to tell you this, but that wont be your last time.

I remember every day after art class
you would come out with arms covered in paint
 and macaroni tangled in your hair.
And when your mom rushed you to the tub, no matter how hard she scrubbed
she couldn't get the corners of your mouth to point anywhere but up.
Because you found something that day.
Something that felt right.
I can still see the face of the boy you were dared to kiss
when you fell flat on your face because of a tree root.
That too will not be the last time.
And I remember hearing the giggles from all the other kids
when the teacher told you to write
 "I WILL NOT SPEAK LOUDLY"
 50 times in the corner.



Truth is, you're in store for a lot.
Fairy tales that seem to be better in your head,
and games against friends that seem like more fun during recess.
I wont tell you the rough patch you go through before you move,
but when you do move just know that friends do exist,
and even though pretend is pretty fun,
so are nights spent with the right kind of people.
Try not to fall for every boy that says he can take you somewhere time doesn't exist,
 because darling, time is always there
and it's always watching.

So here's to the imaginary friends, 

and swing sets on top of rocks instead of grass 

and to the kids sitting at the peanut free table. 

Here's to you.