My Growing Up Story

My world has always been shaped by stories. Ever since I was a child, I would run away to magical places that did not exist and find a home amongst the fictional characters I grew up reading about. In those yellowed pages, I stayed. In the ink, I was more.

So many chapters have been turned since then, until it was only a matter of days until I was of age. Eighteen always seemed so far away when I was younger. Similar to how sunflowers would reach for the sun, and the cereal box you couldn’t grab on top of the refrigerator, I always thought it was out of reach. Now here it is, patiently waiting for me outside my front door.

As I grew up, endlessly being changed by a mosaic of experiences, I realized that not all stories have to be fictional. It is not always written beforehand, where fate has already been predetermined. It can be chosen. It can be mine.

On September, a new chapter will be written. A magical evening where symphonies intermingle with the atmosphere, sparkling gowns brush the dance floor, and conversation comes alight. A day of celebration—or rather, a masked reverie—and I wish for you to be a part of it.

Adorned in glitter and memories, we shall meet under a sky that bears witness to all I was, all I am, and all I will be.

Until then.