A.n. Wrote this a few months ago, recently found it, and liked it. It's kind of one of those self-motivational things, and I know getting it out helped me a little, and so I thought I'd share it.
Someday it will be enough to say 'I love you'. Someday I will be able to grow, to be able to say, 'This is my story'. This I swear.
I am glad I can get away this summer, actually, because I always forget who I am this time of the year. I need to rebuild myself in the bright beaches of California. I will build myself like a sandcastle and decorate it with pink petal shells and seaweed like mermaid locks. I will rebuild myself with a sunburned nose.
I will re-find (refine?) myself in the dusty streets of Spain. I will see donkeys (asses and angels) and purple-red-yellow-blue-green scarves and stalls and fans. I will find myself in tile mosaics and saffron rice. I will find myself in a foreign language and a foreign place. (This/that is/will be ironic; a sort of poetic justice.)
I cannot wait to write about it.
And I will smile and laugh and not think so much (what an uncanny echo of 12 months ago) because I am tired of being sad (a different reason this time). I will remember that my friends love me and that there is someone out there who will think I'm…what do I want? Do I want cute? Do I want beautiful? Do I want funny? What do I want to be?
I want to be all those things and so much more. I will keep in mind that there is someone who will see that; who will see that I am not so silly-stupid-silent as I seem.
I will remember that I am strong. I will remember that I am not invisible. I will remember to reenergize myself each day with calming breaths, with belly laughter, with loving thoughts, with the knowledge that I occupy a space in the world and the hope of a better day tomorrow. I will remember that it is not possible to be universally liked. I will remember that the past is the past, and that not everybody is trying to hurt you.
I will embrace today because today is all we have. It's time to relax a little, to stop fretting about the future because it has so much in store for me, yet.
Monetary wealth has only so much value.
I am still young. If I am overfond of chick flicks, chick lit, and still a bit shy, still a bit reserved, still a bit frivolous, and still a bit scared of serious subjects, so be it. At least I can still laugh, even if I've forgotten how, lately. This does not make me stupid.
I do not have to be loud or particularly witty to be liked. I have no reason to be jealous. I will squash that ugly green monster with my woven wedges and I will dream of Paris.
There are benefits of chaos. I will remember this and believe what I write. Live my writing. (Do nothing half-heartedly.) Brush of slights, brush off mistakes because I judge myself more harshly than others judge me.
I will find my grown-up Pan and I will connect his freckles with a sharpie of moonlight ink and I will form a star on a background of golden skin. When the Mona Lisa looks at me I will smile instead of frown. I will do nothing that I will be ashamed of. I will paint my toes in shades like an electric rainbow. My edges will be defined with sunlight. I will cry for the love song and then write a new one. I will gobble words.
Someday I will be braver. Someday I will hear the words I have been waiting for all my life. This I swear.