When I was a teenager growing up, I had a skylight window in my rooftop bedroom. I remember staring at the bluest of the skies, perfectly clear, not a cloud in the sight. I would just stare at the sky, at the empty space, almost unnaturally blue, too perfect to fathom and I would cry. I would stand there and cry at how beautiful the sky was. It was a sad cry. And the only word I could use to describe that was inadequacy. In that moment, the sky made me feel inadequate. And I often think back to it, trying to think why anyone would cry at the sky. I still don’t really know. Maybe I felt trapped, or lonely. All I know is that I found being a teenager was really, really hard. But, if I could go back and talk to my younger self, I’d tell her that it’s okay to feel sad. I’d tell her that it’s not her fault. I’d tell her that all the sadness will pass, and soon she’ll see a perfect sky and smile.