Dear Mom,

You miss the old me, 

the little girl you could hold in your arms

the one that didn't protest when you made her wear a dress

the one who swore she would never, ever be attracted to a boy

the girl who played in the mud and studied insects

was a bit of a crybaby

wasn't picky or moody and went along with everything

loved everyone. 

I see it sometimes in your eyes. 

You see her in me. 

the grumpy teenager who never does anything right

and has a C in math 

and curses sometimes in front of you, accidentally

sometimes talks nonstop, sometimes not at all

can't put her feelings into words

talks about politics as if she has a place in them

acts like a guy sometimes. dresses like one.

will probably get a boyfriend in 50 years

writes depressing poems

and is so

goddamn

sad.