“Your trauma is never indicative of who you are and how well you deserve to be loved.”

You always told me that I was the child with one foot out the door. But, did you ever consider that it was for my own safety?

Stare hard at the hurt. Ask why it stings. Dig into the root and rip it out. It doesn’t have to stay there just because it grew there.

And who will advocate for me? Me. Even when it feels lonely. Lonely is where we grow the most.

Love does not equate staying quiet. Sometimes it has to be outspoken, always loud, and forever on fire.

I must be worth something if my heart thinks so.

And what happens when you run out of words? You listen. Deeply. To everything around you.

Maybe I am something special but nothing spectacular.

I am hell-bent on loving my hell.

Think of how good tomorrow might be.

I love my sadness because it is honest.

You write poems or you are a poem. That is where you’ll shine.

Your love is only as good as your intention.

Meet me with authenticity or not at all.

Do you see who I am beyond your judgment? I lay with my core, and there is a force in there.

Don’t fear it. That pull between your heart and mind. It is trying to teach you. It is learning your language.

It’s hard to know who I am when who I am always swallows me whole.

Is the love you are getting, also the one you deserve?

Avoid at all costs that vile spew you see rotting in oil in screwtop jars. Too lazy to peel fresh? You don’t deserve to eat garlic.

She had it all, brains and body and the ability to tell me to go to hell whenever I deserved it. Love, at its finest.

My generation, and those coming after, are the future. We deserve to be fought for. We deserve climate justice, social justice and equity.

You deserve somebody who knows why you’re rare.

You deserve the greatest love.

You deserve words that remind you of your value.

You deserve a good man. Who tells you he cares. Who listens when you speak. Who chooses you above the rest.