You will always, to me, be just that. You'll be 18 in a month and a half, but you will forever be that small snot nosed child who used to copy everything I did. Obviously, when I was younger, it would annoy me. But now that I am older and have a few years worth of life experience under my belt, I know that I still wish you did copy me. Most of the time.
I'm mad at you. I'm upset with the fact that you think you have it all figured out. It hurts to know you're out there in the world making your own choices, some of which are not very smart.
I know I have no room to talk. Because I know that, at your age, I was just as naive. Selfish. A know-it-all. I thought I knew everything and that I was surrounded by a bunch of idiots.
Now, I know that I don't know everything. I'm still surrounded by a bunch of idiots, so I'm glad to have found that I'm not that ignorant, but I'm more humbled now that I see how big this world is. And now I know that every action has a reaction, good or bad. And that when you do something wrong, there are consequences that we have to deal with.
You haven't really had to deal with many consequences. You don't have many responsibilities. Dad is a lot easier on you than he was on me. That used to make me jealous, but I know that I'm better off as a person than I would have been if I had it as easy as you. And that, dear child, is why I'm so upset.
You have yet to figure out that everything you do, despite what you think, affects the people around you. Especially the people who love you the most.
And I know that I get on your nerves. And I know that sometimes I sound like a preachy bitch, but it's only because I care about you. I love you. I would literally take a bullet for you. I would do anything for you.
I'm proud of you. I'm glad you brought your grades up. I know you must have worked very hard to do so, especially your English class. That's a small step towards a cleaner path, but you still have a lot of soul searching to do.
Being 17 is hard. You're at an awkward age where you're not really quite sure on where to go or what to do. Even when you start to get a fraction of an idea, you realize you have no idea on where to start. You have deadlines and stress and worries. I hate to tell you this, but it only gets worse. Those things will always be there for you to dread. But if you find yourself, and you know who you are and where you need to be and what you need to be doing there, then the rest kind of just seems more like routine than extra baggage.
I want you to have the world. I want you to be your own person and explore different areas of life. I just don't want you to get hurt. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Ever.
If I could wrap you up in a bubble and spoon feed you, I might quit my job and do it. Not literally, but you know what I mean.
The last thing I'd ever want for us is to be like Dad and Aunt Theresa. I don't want to not have you in my life. I don't want to not have any contact with you. You're one of my best friends, and you're a big part of me. If I ever lost you, in any way, I'd lose a big part of myself. I wouldn't know what to do with myself.
You teach me. So many things. All the time. You shape me in the biggest more irreversible way. You have no idea what kind of impact you've made on me. You're brilliant. You're outgoing. You're hilarious. You're different. You see the world in ways that no one else can. You have so much potential to be whatever you want to be. And as cliche as that sounds, which you know I hate, I firmly mean it with all of my heart.
I can't tell you how...surreal it's been watching you grow up. You and Brooke. It blows my mind to see these two beautiful people. No longer little babies. No longer needing to be fed and changed and held. It kills me to know that those days are gone and you're now you're own person. And you don't need me anymore. I still have a couple years left with Brooke, maybe, but you. Not you.
You'll be going off to college soon. And I will miss you more than ever. I just hope you know how much I really do love you. How much you really and truly mean to me.
I wish I could bottle up the memories. And whenever I wanted a small taste of them, I'd just open the bottle and let the memories spill out around me. I'd do anything to go back, with the knowledge I have now. Because I wouldn't mind that you followed me everywhere. I wouldn't mind that you always wanted me to read with you. And play with your toys with you. And pull you around in the wagon.
I was 9. You were 4. You kept tugging at my shirt asking me if you could play with me and Brittany. I kept telling you no and you got mad. I called you annoying and you started crying. And you told on me. And mom told you, "Leave the girls alone. They want to play by themselves." And you said, "But she my sissy mommy. MY sissy. Not Brittany's sissy."
I'd go back to that day and I wouldn't have pushed you. I wouldn't have told you no.
I love you more than anything.
I hope you always know that, and never forget it.
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