Death Is My Frenemy by Katarina E. Tonks

Dear Reader,
It hadn’t hit me right away, many things, but especially the fact that I was about to turn twenty years old. It was as if it was just yesterday that I was learning how to make a peanut butter sandwich, tie my shoes, and draw endlessly with fat crayons–which I thoroughly believed to be a masterpiece. It had to be yesterday when I was befriending any new person that I met with a dazzling smile.

No, those were the years that I was numb–masked from the world and blissfully unaware of the dangers and lingering dark edges of the Chicago city.
Life moves fast; terrifyingly fast for some, especially those who try and anchor down each and every day of their existence. For others, it moves drearily slow. I use to be numb, I use to be unaware of the shadows deep within the corners of the earth, the watchful figures around me. I use to draw scribbles, struggle to tie my shoes and fail at doing the simple things, like tying shoes. I use to make friends with anyone I met and kept that friendship over a promise. I use to do a lot of things, actually. But that was when life was a whole lot simpler, safer, and perfect.