Endangered Species

It took me 30 years to love myself. 30 years to learn it's ok to be a size 0, have natalie arms, repeat 2 a days until I drop, sit alone in my boxers wearing my choice t of the day my inner romantic clepto seized possibly decades ago.

It took me 30 years to be ok with being loved. Every road traveled, every person I met made me who I am. Most locked me up and laid the bricks, but the ones who bring a smile to my freckled dimples gave me wings.

We can close our eyes to the things we don't want to see but we can't close our hearts to the things we don't want to feel.

I'm hard to love. It took me 30 years to be ok with that. Nothing worth having comes easy.

Like who you like. Love who you love. Like what you like and love the shit out of whatever it is that moves your soul. Don't give in. Stop pretending to smile, wrapping yourself up in their sheets. In the end the sadness in your eyes can be seen by those who care and the reflection looking back at you doesn't empathize for happiness sakes.

Make lists. On a post-it, in your diary, in your head, on a napkin, scribbled across the bathroom mirror. Write it down, breathe it out, live it. These list-worthy things aren't things at all. They're you. They're what makes you come alive. Don't die before you're dead. The easiest way to  do it is to give up on the you you're covering up.


One minute Bigge tells me to ride, the next George tells me to check yes or no, the next Aretha tells me natural beauty is ok and all that jazz changes my foot steps. Even Tupac knows I get around. Love the changes.

No one else is to blame for not loving you, but the voices in your head, the thoughts you let in. Easier to listen to others and quote their words, "No one can love you if you don't love yourself."

Done. Do it. Your kind of awesome is an endangered species.

Love the way you love.  We all love in our beautiful chaotic way. The ones who love us back, love us for the crazy way we love. Don't change how you love because it doesn't fit in the pretty little box wrapped by the voices of those who wish they loved unapologetically. So be crazy in love, in like, in life. With you and who ever you want to fit in a song. Live the only way you know how, happily.

I like the viens in my obliques, the rough edges of my toe tips, the scar in my eyelash, all the thoughts I can't communicate with words. I'm still learning how to let someone else love me, but loving yourself feels pretty damn good. Love on.