I'm seventeen.
What an ugly number.
What an unforgiving number.
What a troubled number.
Or is that just me?
Me...

I'm nowhere near perfect.
I've got a nice hullahoop glued to my hips,
I've got hair that refuses to listen,
I've got a stress problem.
And that is me.

Want to know the biggest problem?
I've got my hullahoop and its worst enemy is confidence.
I've got my flyways and their worst enemy is confidence.
I've got stress and its worst enemy is confidence.
Who knows, maybe I could be great... but I'll never know.

The only thing I do know,
is that I was born
and I was born
to live.
to live is to stop wallowing
to stop worrying
to stop fretting
and to jump into that huge puddle
to take that jump.
that jump is life
and unless you take it,
unless I take it,
then I am stuck...
in my hullahoop,
with my flyaways,
bubbling in stress,
and worst, alone.

I'm going to jump
and there is nothing
nothing
that will stop me.

I'm going to live
and there is nothing
nothing
that will stop me.

jump. live. life.