I know this isn’t what you want for me. I know that when you sat down and wrote a list of everything that would make my life beautiful, these things were not scribbled in your illegible handwriting. I know you wish that I spoke differently, or agreed with you more frequently on your vanilla views of the world. I know you wish that I would just sit down, shut up and cross my legs like I was raised to do. I know that I am much more awkward than you like and never quite make sense to you. I know that I have made mistakes that have left black scars on your own heart. I know that you would never admit that. I know I have a few too many tattoos and real-life scars for your own liking. I know that you wake each morning hoping that I am taking your advice just a little more seriously today.
I know when you read this your face will turn a little red and you will phone me and immediately demand to know why I am being so vulnerable and sharing so much of myself again.
I know, but I also know myself even better than you know me. I know what brings my soul alive after working all day. I know what makes me giggle just a little more than anything else, and how giggling has the same value as water in the quest to keep me alive. I know what it feels like to have someone read something that is literally the depths of who I am vomited out on to a page, and tell me how they just never thought anyone else could feel the same way. I know what it feels like to be completely in sync with who I am, what I want and my purpose here and that I will never, ever give that up to fit into a box you wrote me into.
I need you to know that even if I am not everything you want me to be, I still love you (every part of you,) and I’ve got this, I promise.