Every time somebody valiantly expresses their insecurities and tries to convince me it makes them who they are, I just want to shake them. I just want to ask them do we love because we have to, or do we love because it’s the only force out there that makes us feel alive? I want to ask them, do you love your friends because of their heavy past or because of their ability to make you laugh even at your darkest hour? The answer is neither. You love them because you love all parts of them, even the ones you don’t know yet. I want to tell them that dandelions were once weeds and that butterflies were once caterpillars, but the weeds and caterpillars are equally as majestic as what they transformed into. I want to tell them you are not a puddle, you are a beautiful sea where otters play and whales sing. I want to tell them that pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. I want to tell them that yes I agree, sadness makes us who we are, but as does happiness. I want to tell them that they shine as bright as that ray of sunshine peering through the curtains the morning of a hangover.
They tell me the world has moved on. I want to tell them the world moves with your sadness. And the world wishes you happiness.
They look at me and their eyes whisper, “Nobody cares” and I want to say, “I am that somebody that cares.”
I want to ask them if they think they’re beautiful. I want to ask them until they say yes.