Letters to myself
There’s no quit in you. I’ve seen you fight off the impending spiral with words from ancient texts and visions brought to you in the middle of night. Never once did I doubt you. You rest and come back as if you never stepped away. You’ve laid brick by brick by brick. You’ve sweat. You’ve lost sleep. You’ve stepped out and let the world know you’re here and you’re not ever leaving until the Good Lord calls you home. You’ve worked your ass off to be where you are today. There’s no way you have any quit in you. Not an once. It’s something about the fire in your chest. Something about your ability to understand, to listen, to consistently pound away at the mountains in front of you. Let them scoff. Let them mutter foolish things under their breath. Remember this: You stood up one day and said, “I Choose Me. I choose me.” And you know what’s great about that? It means they don’t have to. But for the record, I’d choose you every single for the rest of my life. I choose you too.