I’ve only existed as myself in this world for 17 years and I understand that’s not a lot, but I’ve learnt some things and maybe you knew it all already or maybe you didn’t, and maybe none of it matters or maybe it does. But hear me out.

I’ve learnt that 1 plus 1 equals 2, or 11 or a window and that 2 plus 2 can equal 4 or 22 or even a swan if you really try.

I’ve learnt that you cannot label the characters of this world as good guys and bad guys, that they are simply in-between guys, just trying to survive.

I’ve learnt that it’s possible to build another world for yourself and live there, and on the bad days it’s tempting to stay but you’ve got to step back outside.

I’ve learnt that fear paints the faces of men strange colors, and contorts their bodies in strange ways, and that some people do bad things and you’re not going to get it.

I’ve learnt that just because an apple is bruised does not mean all of it is rotten; does not mean it is past salvage. That there are people you’re going to meet in the world who will try to change you and there’s no real way to know if this is the time you’re supposed to let them or this is the time you’re meant say no.

I’ve learnt that you’re going to face a lot of hurricanes and they’re going to rip through your flesh and expose the bone of all the skeletons in your closet. That the Great Gatsby is practically the Bible. That as a human you’re going to always have your nose pressed to the ground, sniffing, searching, seeking heat, seeking a pulse, seeking a purpose.

I’ve learnt that if you’re waiting to hear words from your God, go down to the beach at 4am and listen to the waves breathe- there’s your God.

I’ve learnt that some days you’re going to be smiling so wide and out of nowhere it’ll start to rain and the water will start filling your mouth and it will try to drown you. That not every answer lies in Jerusalem and not every road leads back to renewal.

I’ve learnt that you are not made of the words anyone calls you, the words they plaster to your skin as soon as you enter the room- you are made of what you eat on Sunday nights and the temper that runs in your family and the tree your mother planted for you in the garden while she was waiting for you to join her. That you need to be careful how close you get to someone because if you get close enough you can start to become a part of them.

I’ve learnt that the calluses on your mind last much longer than those on your hands. That if you roll your eyes at someone before you know where they’ve slept, where they’ve been punched and where they’ve been when they were at their most vulnerable, one day you will roll over in your grave for never giving them a chance.

I've learnt that this world is going to pull you, stretching your flesh across your body, your skin so thin that some days you'll seem yellow and some days you'll seem blue but most days you'll seem like a tree wrapped in vines of veins and valves and viscera.

I’ve learnt that you will find your messiah and maybe it’s in poetry, or maybe it’s in the lungs of the woman who raised you.

I’ve learnt that it will be during your finest hour- in the moment when you are at your most golden- that this world will snatch away the thing you forgot to watch in that flaxen haze- and you will plead with her, you will beg her just as the burning sky begs the clouds for rain- and she will laugh and tell you this is the way it is.

I’ve learnt something about sadness and I know I’m not allowed to know sadness, like its some kind of privilege now, but hear me out. What I’ve learnt about sadness is that one can never truly be rid of it. It lingers, underneath your fingernails, in the gaps and the cracks of the floorboards. It makes a home in the hole in the wall and comes out when you’re not looking.  Sometimes, sometimes you can run your finger over your desk, or your headboard, or your dining room table, and you can see it on your finger you can see the sadness. Sadness lingers.

What I’ve learnt about sadness is that it will find a spot right behind your ear and it will stay there for a while.

I’ve learnt that no amount of Colombian home remedies will bleach away the past and remove the marks from our bodies. But that’s a good thing. It’s a good thing that these events in our lives, these struggles and these wars and these moments of despair, leave bruises tattooed on our skins, bruises that fade with time but never completely disappear.

I’ve learnt that sadness never completely disappears and that’s a little depressing, yes. But I’ve also learnt that happiness lingers too.

I’ve learnt that sometimes it will feel like this life has loved you, and sometimes it will feel like you’ve lost it. But remember it’s just a feeling. You haven’t lost it; this is just the beginning.  After all, you’ve only existed for 17 years, and that’s really not a lot.