The Edge of Seventeen
not the movie starring hailey steinfield or the song by stevie nicks. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
- Lady Lazarus, Sylvia Plath
When you’re reading this I will be 17 years and 2 days old.
16 has been good to me, sweeter than any year yet. I met some of the most important people in my life this year, ones I’m loving for keeps. I also let go of a few people who were not meant to be in my life. I believe these two things are interconnected, one could not have existed without the other.
In the business of aging I’m determined to be an optimistic customer. When my forehead wrinkles and hair goes gray, I will not mourn beauty lost but embrace beauty changed. Before that, when I turn 30 in 13 years (oh my god??) I’ll resist the urge to rush fate and find someone to leave my children to.
I must believe the best is yet to come because I will never be 13, 15, or 12 again.
My favorite part of aging, something I relish in every year, is that I’ve never once ended a year looking recognizable to the start. Every year I am reborn. I’m a bit steadier of a four-legged creature. The face of love seems to change most often, for better or worse. One year she’s the Madonna, the next, the Whore. She morphs with my shame, fears, the sins against me and the miracles for me. Everything flows through her channel, eager and certain water. I imagine it is a little scared; Once love turns good, it will change again. We spend so much time wondering how it will end as if it is all that matters. All along the answer is: different.
I’m getting ahead of myself. All people can tell me is how much of a beginning I am, how I’ve barely inched away from the starting line. I’m lucky because this means I’m afforded so, so much room for error which I have certainly made use of. But I don’t know where I’ll go once it’s gone. One day, without knowing it, I will cross a line drawn by a timeline I cannot see. I will be too old to make such silly mistakes, though I know that I will inevitably keep making them all my life. I will be stranded by ingenuity, I will be alone.
I don’t know how things will turn out. The future is surely sprawling, but misty- a siren I want to be swallowed by as she leads me into the next life.
I hope that one year I am reborn strong.
Sincerely,
- Unripe Angel
Written by Josephine Belliveau.
Everywhere I can be found: unripe.angel