letter to myself. 9:30pm 4.25.11.

Your whole life you have been different, felt different, felt somehow simultaneously lonely and chlosterphobic in your surroundings. People always tell you that you will do great things, that you just might have the ability to change the world--even if only a little bit--and you give them an awkward giggle or a pitiful "thanks." For years, though, you have been afraid. Afraid of trying and failing, afraid of never being enough, afraid of your endless hope and your youthful naivete. It is time to let go of these fears. It's time to step out of your own way. It's time to take flight. It's time to soar. You are different, but you were made purposefully. Failure only exists in holding yourself back. Otherwise, you know your determination will pick you up and push you to try again and again... and again. It won't be easy, but your life never has been "easy"--whatever that means--and that hasn't stopped you from loving, from learning, from growing, from laughing, from singing, from dancing, from breathing, from LIVING. It's gonna be okay. In fact, it's gonna be better than okay; it's gonna be beautiful and full of joy that you can't even yet imagine. You might lose people whom you love along the way--people who might not yet understand your spirit--and it will hurt you. Badly. (But only because you love them that much, and let's be honest, you wouldn't have it any other way.) But guess what. You will heal. You always do. You are just a seed, and the tree you will become is calling you forth. It is begging for you to grow into it. Answer it. It's time to run full speed into the water, into the night, into that uncertain darkness you most fear. But, mary, do it with your eyes wide open, your arms outstretched, your lungs sucking in all the air they can possibly hold. Fill yourself with breath, the absolute essence of life, until you think you may burst. Take time to be breathe, to be good to yourself--'cause in the end, I'm all you've got.

Oh, and in case you're unsure, I love you with all my heart. With all my being, dear, I cherish you.

PS--this weekend, make time to get your nose pierced. You know how much you love a surge of liberation.