When I was little I kept a running inventory of all my toys, and the names of every person I had ever met.
I sat on the sidelines during kickball, scribbling in to a beat-up composition notebook; crafting poems, drafting short stories.
When I was little I had a nervous habit of chewing on my fingernails and pinching babies when no one was looking.
I once went eight weeks without combing my hair, and wore the same pair of jeans for a year without washing them.
When I was little I pined over Judy Blume, R.L Stine, and recorded every early-morning episode of Sailor Moon.
Back then, I walked slower, rested more often, and had the time to stare up at the drifting clouds. I watched the stars at night, and waited for the leaves to fall. I felt change, noticed it through the seasons.
When I was little I dreamed, hoped, believed that the world would one day be a place I could call home.
When I was little a felt an emptiness, a hollowing out inside my chest. And I didn't know it then, but now I know that I was searching for something I had yet to find.
Love,
Kris
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