To the little girl that had a
Disney Princess birthday
party despite not liking
Disney Princesses,
I want to tell you-
I do not like them either.
Dresses are overrated.
So is diplomacy-
but the movies never
showed that part of the life.
Chances are Cinderella
would not know how to handle
a peace treaty if she tried.
Do not blame yourself for
not being able to handle your
own diplomatic relations-
Parents are not supposed to
be countries that need treaties
anyway. You are not their
princess they use to make the
country work. Your existence
is not to fix issues- you cannot
be made into a bandaid for
their festering infection.
To the little girl who tried
to find law books in the
small public library,
You will not be able to find
your answers there. I know-
I tried. And I found the books too!
There is no law saying two
parents have to get along-
No rule against forcing a
relationship that was already
boiling over. Do not try and
settle it- do not try and move
the pot. You will only get burned.
I know you want to be able to
handle the situation calmly
and correctly, but honey,
an 8 year old does not make
a good mediator. Drop your
mother as a client and lock
your office doors. The pay
will never be good enough
for that kind of work load-
You will never be able to
not take it home.
To the little girl who never
had friends in class, but
still preferred to be alone
at school rather than be
alone at home, you were
not alone at home. I know
it did not feel like it, but
you always had your family
there to talk to. I will not lie,
sometimes I feel like mine
are not there for me too, but
never believe it is your fault.
It is not because they do not
love you- love is not measured
in conversations or hugs. Love
is whoever is willing to clean
up the blood when you skin
your knee, whoever is willing
to pick you up when you fall.
Love yourself, sweetheart,
because there will always be
a time when you are bloody
on the ground and it is up to
you to stand. Standing
sometimes hurts, but standing
is the first step of walking,
and then you can move on.
I did it- so can you.
To the little girl who hoards
books and notebooks like
the end of the world is
approaching, and words are
the only currency in the
apocalypse, I am not going
to tell you to stop. Do not.
You are absolutely right.
Keep writing- keep reading.
Keep searching for the words
that taste just right, the ones
that both heal and rip open
your wounds. Some injuries
do not heal right, and that is
okay- cut them open and
start again. Poetry works
well as a scalpel and a knife,
but not a bandaid. It is good
for doing autopsies and
winning wars, but it will never
be a good doctor for a broken
heart. Writing will help find
words for what you feel- but that
does not stop you from feeling it.
To the little girl who wears
depression like a warm coat
and uses anxiety like a
pacemaker for her heart,
That pleasant feeling you
feel is not pleasant at all.
You are not protected by it,
or comforted, that tsunami
is playing games with you-
that hurricane is not a
raincoat. When the teeth
seem sweet, you need to
find a hunter. You have a
beast on your tail. That
jump in your heart will not
save you from being “lazy”,
ripping your hair out will not
help you lose weight. It is not
normal to set fire to your feet
in order to keep up with
everyone else. Just tell them
to slow down.
To the little girl who feels
like all through childhood,
she has been picking up
burning coals labeled
“focus” and “calm down”-
It is okay to ask for help
once in your life. It is okay
to feel different and
embrace it. It is okay to not
live up to standards built by
a system not made for you.
It is okay. If this world is not
made for you, make the one
you need. Tell people to be
quiet. Turn the lights down.
Just because it is fluorescent
and not solar, does not mean
you are not burned. You do
not have to accept suffering
to gain respect. If those people
were really going to respect
you, they would do it for who
you actually are, not the pillow
you shoved in your spot.
To the little girl who has
stained her baby blanket
red and swears she will
not live to pass middle
school, much less graduate
highschool, you will. I
promise you that you will.
I am proof you will. I am
standing on the edge of
the future with my eyes
wide open to the possibilities,
I am holding your hand
as I walk on that stage,
I am thinking of you as I
do homework and as I
talk to friends. I think of
you as I take pills to treat
migraines and as I lay
down to take naps. I think
of you as I lose things and
get mad, because I know
it was something you never
let yourself do. I think of
you as I look out my window,
as I close the one in the
bathroom instead of
climbing outside. I think of
you as I look up at the roof,
because it snowed and not
because I am judging the height,
I think of you as I get ready for
bed and get under the covers.
And that baby blanket?
It is no longer red.