Letters To Who I Used To Be

The stories make you
Feel alive.
That’s good, but
Spend more time outside.
Bring a book, if you must.
You’ll need every ounce of sunlight.

Don’t return their vicious words.
Forgiveness comes with time.
Until then,
Stay kind.
They’re just as young as you are.

Alone isn’t bad.
You’ll find your people.
When you do,
Hold tight to them.

When your mind goes dark
And your heart goes numb
And you lose your wonder,
Ask for help.
There’s no shame in it.

Scribble out
A piece of paper—
You know you want to.
Turn the whole thing black with ink.


It’s not
About the grades.
It’s about the experience,
What you learn from it.
Life will never be easy.
Don’t expect to be perfect.

You don’t have to be a scientist
To love the way the world works.
There’s poetry
In every star and mollusk.

Find what makes you happy.
Write it.

God doesn’t hate you.
Not even for that.

Your parents don’t have
Some plan for who you’ll be,
They just
Want you happy.
Hide the bits of yourself
You think they won’t like.

Make your music.
It’s not about being the best,
It’s about the joy.

Find what makes you lonely.
Draw it.

Lose your words
In the colors and shapes
And make something,
Little dreamer.

People are complicated.
You won’t
Understand anyone,
Not completely.
Not even yourself.

People leave.
Let them go.
Talk to new people,
If you don’t think you know how.
(People love to talk about themselves,
So give someone an audience.)

Hug whenever possible.
And, you know,
Socially acceptable.

Find what makes you laugh.
Dance it.

Humor comes
From subverted expectation.

Pick up a Copic book
Or ten.
Who cares
If it’s for “smart kids”
Or not?

Find what makes you angry,
Go for a run.

Cut out what you don’t need.
You won’t miss the length
If you cut your hair short.

Making your thoughts into words
Is hard,
I know.
Will always be lost in translation.
Speak anyway.

You are so, so loved
As you are.


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