A LETTER TO MY FUTURE DAUGHTER

Stand tall, little one.

Your branches are young but your roots are strong. I know because I tended them, I watered them, I loved them.  We share the same roots, you and I.

Stand tall, little one.

It's okay to cry, but then you must lift your head and dry your tears.  There will be times that you feel your heart will stop beating for the pain, but know that it won't.  You are a survivor and the pain will make you strong.

You will never be what they want.  First they will tell you that you are to quiet, then they will try to silence you.  They will call you saint and sinner, goddess and demon; you can't please them so please don't try.  Please don't try.  You know who you are and you know what sets your soul on fire.  Feed that fire.

You will be rejected and you will be lonely and you will be afraid.  Courage, daughter, and know that you are loved.

Stand tall, little one.

Open your soul to God and He will replace your doubts with assurance, your fears with faith.  You are weak and you are human and you will make mistakes.  Apologize.  There will be those who will define you by your mistakes.  They will tell you that you've run out of chances, that you can't possibly be good enough.  Don't listen.  God is endlessly patient and He will never get frustrated.  He will always be willing to forgive you, to teach you, to bandage your wounds and kiss your forehead.  Remember that He is the only one who loves you more than I.  Trust him fully.  His plan will always yield better results than ours.

Don't ever waste time on those who don't recognize your true value.  They will only hold you back and they don't deserve to share your world.  Don't allow yourself to be mistreated, but be free with your forgiveness.  Remember that those you love are just as human as you.  They will let you down and they will hurt you and that's okay.  Let it go.  Learn from it.  Let yourself grow.  And let them do the same.

Work hard.  Talent alone will get you no where.  If you want something, go out and fight for it.  You are entitled to nothing, so expect nothing.  Your ambition and dedication will be rewarded.  Prioritize.  Keep your vision and perspective.  Don't let yourself get distracted.  Always remember that God and family come first.

Stand tall, little one.  There are great things in store for you.

Love,
Your Mother

A letter to our ruler, lord of kings and beggars, that beastly tyrant: FEAR.

I'm like, so over it.

I'm done with the constant worrying, the lack of sleep, and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

You said that you could help us.  You promised you would protect us.  That you would protect me.

"Listen to me," you said.

"Trust me," you said.

Well I listened.  You couldn't help.  You didn't protect me.

You built walls: strong protective walls.  You locked up my heart and buried it deep where no one can touch it.  You bottled up my passions and stored them in a cool, dry, secure place.  You whitewashed my vulnerabilities and disguised them with hanging curtains and still lifes.  You gave me guidelines and rule books, lists of  approved words and actions, checks and balances, dos and don'ts, and I studied them until my eyes burned but I never could get the hang of them.  You put deadbolts on all my doors and you said, "Look.  You're safe now."

But every second I spent in my bulletproof, steel plated stronghold wore away my happiness and my self-esteem.  I watched as my sense of wonder turned translucent and ultimately disappeared.

And then loneliness crept in, filling the stale, empty air around me, and discontent started pawing at my ankles.

You didn't protect me.  You crippled me.

With you around every dream turns to a nightmare, and my ambitions are crushed with doubts and what-ifs.  When you're around it's hard to get up in the morning and harder to go to sleep at night.  Any thought of growth is immediately shut down.  Risks are discouraged; creativity is banned.

"But you didn't get hurt," you told me, "I thought that's what you wanted."

I don't want to be safe.  I just want to be real.

Vive la Révolution

Another list of sorts

Short hair can hold as many insecurities as long hair.

Be careful of people; you never know how easily they bruise.

Nothing lasts forever.  That is both a good thing and a bad thing.

Sandpaper.

If you don't know what you want, you're never going to get it.

Timing is everything.

No matter how well you think you know a person, they will still surprise you.

Everyone is crazier than you think.

My name is Lincoln Burrows and I did not kill the vice president's brother.