. On Pep Talks .

"You're just not good at it." He shrugged his shoulders in a way that made me think the whole world probably agreed with him.

Ages ago, it fell out of his mouth. He laughed. "You never have been."

And I agreed because I suppose he's right. I was young and it was summer and isn't it awful to have people you love acknowledge your weaknesses? Expose them? Expound upon them? Elaborate and enumerate and every other word that means show them off.

Over and over while holding my hand, his voice full of condescension, he would laugh it off. "It's okay, Becky. Not everyone can be good at it." He'd hug me, rub a little love on a gaping, wanting wound, and that didn't make it better. 

Those moments were a symptom of a much larger problem, and sometimes, I would find my 20-year-old self so angry that my teeth felt like they would break because my jaw was so clenched.

Clenched.

And quiet.

It's a tally mark, you see? Over and over, he carved into me his opinion. And over and over again, I handed him the stake. Willingly, I listened. Agreed. Took notes on how to play a part better.

So many times, I wanted to call out to him, "I might not be the best ... but I'm not terrible." 

I'm not terrible.
I'm not.

Loves, today I just want to remind you of something very, very important: 

If you have to argue for your love?
If you have to make closing statements?
If you have to try to convince someone to stay?

That you're worthy?
That you're important?
That you're enough? 
That you're smart?
That you're funny?
That you're pretty?
That you're brighter than the damn sun?

Then you need to move on. Take your big, beautiful light, and shine it down on someone that deserves it. Take your gift and your heart and your passion and your joy and your love, and you give it to someone that has earned it. 

Don't you dare walk down a sidewalk with someone that thinks that you are ever -

EVER - 

less.

​I'll remind you until the very end. 

​xoxo, B.