This one's for you, Steven Phillip Clarke.

Wow.

Fifty followers, 150 posts, and 446 days since the birth of this blog. Thank you to each and every one of you for reading this little blog. Here's to another fifty.

(We proceed to clink glasses in a classy manner.)

Send mail to your cousins. Be gutsy enough. People watching should become your favorite pastime. Remember? Everyone is weird. Have a nice day. You deserve it. Write in your diary. If you say it's summer a lot, it might become true. Buy clothes. Your youth is but a fleeting moment. "Do not go gentle into that good night." Bake something tasty. Keep your chin up in the face of adversity. Read a book. Be euphoric about something worth being euphoric about. Do not diet cause it's ultra-dangerous and not very fun. Empower yourself. "Dwell in possibility." Go. Forgive me? Don't admit to being a stalker. Put dirtballs in your pockets and take of both your shoes. Maybe you should kiss someone nice. Or lick a rock. Or both. Together, we can take over the whole world. Join the feminist movement. Happiest Thanksgiving. Stop making "to-do" lists. You're just as sane as I am. Write in cursive sometime. Follow your dreams. Learn to say "I love you" more often. Go running. Go stand in an icy cold pool, kiss Laura/Laurie/Lacey/Lamb under trees, and grow a mullet. Wish on stars. And even airplanes. Go play quidditch. Cookies with raisins in them are mostly only salads. "So glide away on soapy heels and promise not to promise anymore." Stop simply existing. Go read good books and eat rice. Don't take candy from strangers... oh wait, do. Keep calm and ditch class. Don't cram at the end of the term. Eat your fruits and vegetables. But not your meat. Fall in love. You're all invited to my wedding. Recycle. Don't lie to your teachers. Smile.

(I boss you dear readers around quite a bit, don't I? Thanks for reading nonetheless.)

Above all, stay pretty.

All my love,

Addy.

Day 21: A moment from my childhood.

Day 20: This month of February.

I do not have a perfect body. I do not have a perfect soul. My absences go unnoticed. I have bad hair days more often than not. I wish I had a perfect fashion sense, but I don't. I've never been kissed. I don't own a pair of oxfords. I am really different than I used to be; I am no longer "cool." He doesn't love me in real life. I don't play sports. I am not sexy. I fight with my parents a lot. I don't have perfect grades. I am not pretty when I am sleeping. I don't understand football; I don't understand basketball. I do not steal the eyes of every boy in every room. My good math grades come with a mass amount of lost sleep. I am flawed in every way.

At the same time, I have a nice body. My soul is better than it used to be. I am occasionally missed. I have a strong sense of fashion. I've never been kissed. I will soon own the greatest pair of boots (I ordered them last night). I am really different than I used to be; I am better. He might love me in real life. I am a dancer. I am beautiful. I have hilarious, generous parents. I get better than average grades. I don't need much sleep. I understand how to use a semi-colon; I understand French. I occasionally steal his attention. I get a good math grade with hard work.

Because of that, this month, I will walk with confidence.

You ought to walk with confidence, too.

Send mail to your cousins.

All my love,

Addy.

Nice try, Avery.

Avery: I can't actually be dead to you, on account of you wrote that post and then came to my house.

Day 19: It's the "What if?" that lingers.

I regret every word I didn't say to you. I regret every friendship I didn't save. I regret every outfit I didn't wear. I regret every boy I didn't love. I regret every tear I didn't cry. I regret every laugh I didn't laugh. I regret every nap I didn't take. I regret every homework assignment I didn't do. I regret every all-nighter I didn't pull. I regret every trip I didn't take. I regret every yell I didn't yell. I regret every time I didn't talk to a stranger. I regret every time I didn't wish. I regret every song I didn't sing.

I regret never telling him that he looked nice.

I regret never befriending her.

I regret never letting myself be free.

I regret everything. Everything I could have done, and didn't. Every opportunity that I had, but didn't take it.

It isn't the things I do. It's the things I don't that haunt me.

Be gutsy enough.

All my love,

Addy

Day 18: Joyeux anniversaire.

A few days ago I was helping my nana move into her new house. I got put in charge of the books (because books are my favorite material possessions) on the shelf downstairs. In the midst of the craziness and tossing of books and yelling up to my mother and dancing about to a little Eurythmics, I came across a journal.

I opened it up. My nanas. From the year I was born. (Heaven sent this to me, I presume.)

I flipped to the thirteenth of August.

Sure enough. There it was. She had written about the day I was born and everything she was feeling. She wrote about my mom and how happy she was to finally have a granddaughter. I read it and I cried.

That was my favorite birthday. The one we actually celebrate everything because of.

People watching should become your favorite pastime.

All my love,

Addy

P.S. Dear Anonymous Commenter,

Feel free to comment often, because your comment made my whole week. Do I know you in real life?

In response to your question, I am terrified to announce who this boy is because, in facebook language, "it's complicated" and he probably doesn't love me back, but I sometimes think that he might and it gives me grief and I don't want the whole world/whole blogosphere knowing who it is. If I know you in real life, I'll totally tell you.

J&K = Jake and Katie.

Thank you so much for reading this little blog.

All my love to you, Addy