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Forget the guy who used you.
Tune out the friend who talked down to you or the boss who told you you’d never make it.
Ignore your parents who told you that you don’t sing sweetly or that your haircut looks dumb or that you aren’t good at this or aren’t worth that or don’t know a thing.
Don’t listen to the memos that tell us that women can be beautiful or smart—but not both.
Shake off the messages that you aren’t lovable, that you were never worthy, that you will never be enough.
Because you, my darling, are fire.
That’s not to say you aren’t messy—you are.
That’s not to say you aren’t a little f*cked up, just like the rest of us.
You’ve got scars and sores and wounds that you’ll be licking for years to come. You’ve got fears and trust-phobia and frequent self-criticism spirals.
But one day, I hope you come to see yourself like I see you, to love yourself like I love you.
I hope you love yourself so much that, even when people break your trust—because they will—it won’t shake you quite so much. Because you’ll still have yourself, and that will be enough.
I hope you love yourself so much that, even when someone tries to shame you, you know they just aren’t ready to allow you to be human.
I hope you love yourself so deeply that you know nothing is out of reach.
I hope you love yourself so wildly that you see beauty that surrounds you as clearly as you see the snow that dusts the mountains.
I hope you love yourself so completely that you stop defining yourself by the rejections and the false starts and the failures.
I hope you love yourself in a way that is unshakable, indestructible, irrefutable.
I hope you love yourself until you realize there was never any reason not to.
I hope you love yourself like this.