thank you, thank you, thank you

I don't remember much about my seventeenth year. The filler details of the memories are vague, they float around with nothing tangible to latch onto. I do not remember what I learned in school. I do not remember the things we said to each other at our graduation. I do not remember the promises we made and broke almost right away. What I do remember is the way the air felt and smelled, and what staying awake too long could teach me, and my meal plans, and exactly how much I weighed, but I cannot tell you that it means something, anything. I do not remember coming home that day and looking my father in the face and saying "I'm sorry, I'm trying, but I'd really rather be dead." I am so glad that I called you up instead, because although I never intended on spilling my guts to you on the phone like that, if there is one thing that I will always remember it is how you taught me to be grateful and to be kind, to everyone, including myself.