Dear me at 17:
Run.
Run as fast as you can.
Stop blaming everybody else.
You are an idiot.
You will spend most of your life cringing involuntarily about every stupid thing you ever did, especially just before falling asleep, so do as few stupid, cringeworthy things as possible.
You are beautiful.
It wasn't your fault.
He didn't know better, he was a prick; she let it happen, she didn't know better.
They should have known better.
Love them.
Don't give up.
You will not make his mistakes.
You will make a lot of mistakes.
LEARN.
Mean people want you to know something you don't want to know. Spread your fingers a little and peek at what they show you.
Avoid hurting people, even if they deserve it.
Floss.
Make money, ya dope ya.
Do what you love, but if it turns out you can't, do right. When it comes time to step up, to stand up, to walk away, to hold your end, to sacrifice, just do it.
Don't be a sad sack about it.
It wasn't your fault.
You are beautiful.
Don't look back on it yet, or try to face it, or work it out. It is too big, it was too awful. You will die. Wait another 10 years. Pretend all is Good and True and Right. Act as if Great Things will come to you. They will. They do.
Read. Read everything.
When you have children, tell them you love them, often. Say Please and Thank You, and knock before entering.
You will not hurt them. It will not Happen Again.
Trust all joy. Laugh more.
Finish your degree.
Don't quit.
Be as kind as you possibly can. But stand up, defend right, decry wrong.
When you are in your mid-20s and living on Horatio Street in NYC and you are just so tired of working and raising her alone and being alone and the endlessness of it all? Don't kick the wall. That broken toe will hurt like a sonuvabitch when it gets cold, and for the rest of your life.
Life gets cold. Share warmth.
You are young and strong. Love yourself. Don't eat so much.
It wasn't your fault. You are beautiful.
Run. Get up at dawn, find the fine ridgeline, the one I missed, the one that curves along the spine of the world, the one covered in lush green, that climbs into the good light and never ends.
Leave the deep blue behind.
Run!
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Seer
daisyjane
The Good Daughter
Chicken Mãâàn
the traveler
Ashley F. Miller
Salon.com
Comments
I wish more people understood this . . . for a seeker, the truth will out, in its own time.
And for now . . . run like the wind.
I'm going to have to steal this line.
Grat list, Greg
Yes, beautiful you are.
Love, beauty, forgiveness.
Thanks for the peek.
It wasn't your fault. Ever ...
Wonderful post. Wonderful.
R
We're so afraid we'll repeat the lives our parents lived. You've been determined to break the cycle and congratulations. Your daughters will never be afraid like you were.
And we've already discussed the cringing. :)
RATED
I loved the simplicity of this. Gorgeous. And, yes, it wasn't your fault.
I chuckled at don't hurt people even if they deserve it. I remember pondering`I reckon I'll not smack that critter (NOT anyone in particular) `In a SNOUT! Then, aim to NO hurt in thought word, and deed.
That get into a Post Someday?
A Surgeon may cut a hair of a chin wart?
I don't know if when I follow a Feed? Wart?
Sparking would look pretty with a curly hair wart?
These @ 17 Open Call are so fun and wild I should what?
Tell about my warts, scars, long skinny legs, and hair wart?
tease.
I can't figure why/wart I'm disoriented and out of schedule.
Wart one to do?
Fun read. Goofy?
Goofy can be okay?
Ay, be annoying? Run!
Do it! Do it! Cut wart hair!
silly. Get Up At Dawn? Run!
-rated-
Good on ya.
I love this line: "Act as if Great Things will come to you."
Thank you.
:P
Still nutso from flu and meds, but deeply appreciate the good feeling all of these gives me. xox