I Believe 

     When I was five, I believed a groundhog determined the change from winter to spring. It was as simple as that. I believed that, if he wasn’t in the mood for winter anymore, it automatically changed to spring. There was no science or confusion, just a simple groundhog.

     When I was nine, I believed in Jolly ol’ Saint Nick. I believed he had his eyes on me, so I would strive to stay on the nice list. I didn’t find him creepy or childish, instead I simply enjoyed the childhood bliss. I believed there was enough good and magic in the world to bring Santa to me. 

     When I was thirteen, I believed my life would begin when I could finally drive. I believed I could be anyone and go anywhere with my very own car. I would always hangout with my friends and do cool “teenager stuff”. I believed my family would finally treat me like I had grown past the age of seven. 

     Now that I am sixteen, I believe the world is a horrible place. I used to see magic and hope and love, but now all I see is hate, corruption and fear. The world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows like I once believed, but no one tells you that, rather they let you find it out yourself. You get thrown into the world with bright eyes and hope, and three years later you’re left with the shell of your former self just clinging on to whatever she can to survive. I’d love to believe Santa brings me whatever I want, or that I am going to be a popstar when I grow up. I’d love to believe my family will view me as more than the baby of everyone’s lives. I’d even love to believe high school is like the movies. Now that I am sixteen, I believe my eyes have finally been opened to this broken world I call home.