I'm writing a speech for the ending of my highschool years. I'm writing it slowly, balancing the words and weighing the meaning they hold. I want it to mean something, I want it to break my heart and put it back together again. I want it to be a celebration, a quiet prayer for all that hear it. I'm imagining walking across the stage with my crisp white paper with perfectly printed black lettered in straight lines swaying gently in my hands. Heels clicking on the stage, gown swishing around my ankles. Breath is stilled, there's an applause and I remind myself to smile. Words should mean something, they should show the feeling everyone has inside them - the truth they know. I have three pages written, I've taken time with my handwriting - this is important to me. I go over a sentence a dozen times, I'm not a perfectionist but it has to be right. The audience watches and they want to know what I have to say, the stage lights are warming my skin and I know I have to tell them now. I'm writing it like I'd make a soup; a few ingredients, the perfect balance between a touch of bitter and creamy warmth. Something that strikes a memory you didn't know you had: rich and yellow filling the back of your mind. A touch of comfort like your grandma's chicken soup. Maybe it's not the best way, but I'm writing a speech.