I spend my childhood with desiring to grow up.
The hand-made doll which my grandma had made for me in my short nailed hands,
With my braided hair
When I was the princess of my parents heart.
I had tried to convince them that I am not a princess, I am a fairy.
I can cast a spell, I can be whoever I want.
But I’ve never planned to be who i am right now.
The morning of night which I don’t remember whose lap I was on,
When I was running to the bathroom to heave  all the bad memories of the night,
With the terrible headache I have,
I began to think.
Who I have become?
When I woke up between  foreign arms shirtless,
I realized that I am 15.
I understand people who think
Age is just a number.
Even though she’ll never forgive what I did to her little princess,
I miss the warmness of my mom’s hugging.

And I cried more.