I am 15 again and I sleep early. I'm in bed with my eyes open and I'm not crying, or overthinking. I'm not listening to sad songs to fall asleep. I've still got long hair I used to love. I'm not alone at school and I do my homework on time. I am reading novels a friend gave me and I'm not lonely. I haven't had the taste of grief yet and I'm normal. I'm still a hopeless romantic and collecting dried flowers and pretty rocks from sidewalks. I'm playing with my friends in the evening and I'm never tired of running. The home is warm and Ma is cooking food in the kitchen. I enter home and the aroma is all over the place and I know what's for dinner tonight. The childhood memories haven't yet returned and I'm happy.




© k. k.