I was 13.
I was a seventh grader.
The one thing I wanted to do was have my birthday party at the roller rink and to have Ariel cupcakes.
My grandma made me her famous pancakes on the morning of my birthday. She also made me a crown to wear.
That year, I got baptized.
I began to sense that divorce was coming, though I continued to deny it. It was the last christmas we'd spend all together as a family.
I failed the Texas standardized math test and thought my world was over. My mom reassured me that it wasn't.
I played violin in our middle school's orchestra.
We went to Six Flags in all our Orch Dork glory and had a blast.
I dressed up as a clown for halloween. Rainbow afro and everything. (I really wish I found a picture!)
My grandparents moved in with us, which meant I had to share a room with my youngest brother. I put duct tape down the center of the room and divided sides.
My mom, brothers and a bunch of our friends went to an outdoor concert. It was also a blast. Oh and we wore awesome balloon hats.
Friends were my everything at that point in my life. I had childhood friends, orchestra friends and 'popular' friends. I felt like I was on top of the world. Until we'd have 13 year old drama and fight. Then be friends again. Then fight. Middle school, am I right?
At this point, I had begun to develop my love for Taylor Swift after finding her Myspace page.
It was also when I was allowed to have my very own Myspace. I know, right?
That was 13.