I want to be honest with a stranger. Tell them let's talk. Have fun. Over coffee. Or on the beach, with sand on our toes. Or on a waiting bench, in the park. Or in the bus, whilst stuck in traffic.
I want to be honest with a stranger. Tell them my name. Then my favorite food. Or color. Or my work. In no particular order.
I want to be honest with a stranger. Tell them, talk. And I will listen. Tell me your name. Your favorite color. Or food. In no particular order. Then tell me more. And more. And more. And I will listen. And talk too, when you pause and wait for my response. Or when you need my help to churn out the words in sentences That maybe I can finish.
I want to be honest with a stranger. Reach out Shake hands Smile And say It's nice to finally meet you.
You are not for everyone. There are poems within you that people will not be able to handle, storms surging through your bones that young men and women will never be able to weather. See, you have a love inside of you that will ooze from your very veins like honey on a hot day and you will never be able to stop it. You’re going to fall deeply in love with the wrong world – the kind of world young girls dream of, the kind of world where people say how they feel and love whom they love. You will forever be attached to the deep parts of those you tangle yourself within, though they will never get their hands dirty long enough to uncover the treasure that hums within your dancing pulse. You are going to be misunderstood in the way you care, for you will love people not for what is obvious within them, but for what is hidden beneath their masks. You are not going to revel in their freckles, you will not compliment the hues within their eyes. You are going to live for the way they breathe in the cold December air, watching as their chest rises and falls like your very heartbeat. You are going to live for the way their pupils dilate when they talk about something they are truly passionate about, when their cheeks flush from a compliment or the unexpected brush of your foot against their leg. No, you are not for everyone. You are never going to be able to stop yourself from screaming your love from rooftops, you will never be able to play it cool. You are the kind of person who will worry about the strangers you see in grocery stores, the kind of person who will stay up at night wondering about your fifth grade crush, hoping that the sun is setting beautifully wherever they rest their head. For that, I hope you protect yourself. I hope that you do not let the world condemn you for being too loud, too expressive, too soft; that you do not let it convince you to be perfect instead of real. I truly hope that you celebrate the fact that you are not for everyone, that you are not impressing the kinds of people who were built on the foundations of a sad world. If there is anything you do, please, let yourself rejoice in the fact that you do not fit in, that you think differently, because there is a chaos that laughs inside of you and it is going to change lives. It is going to make even the cynics believe again. It is going to grow love from thorn and glass.
On winters, they say that the earth tilts away from the sun. On summers, we tilt further to it. On the first day of spring, however, "the sun shines equally on both the north and south hemispheres of the earth".
Since young, I always felt like I was summer. Bright, sunny, colorful, light, youthful. Then I read, "In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer". So pretty those words, I thought but something was amiss and it dawned on me- I am not summer. Never was summer.