Dear friend, 

 

I write because I’m angry.

(And I hope you know it’s rare

that I spend my frail brain power

and the time I cannot spare

on something silly, like a poem,

but I see no other way

to channel all these fuming feelings

into what I want to say.)

If you think for a second

that you’re any less than smart,

that your looks are less than lovely,

or that your life plays a small part

in the grand scheme of existence

that we face each day with strife,

please let me try to verbalize

your impact in my life.

Just to know you is reason

for survival in this hell

that we call higher education

(that’s dramatic, but oh well).

I see your face, and instantly,

my happiness is found,

and my day gets 10 times better

just by having you around.

I mean, good grief, you always

blow my mind with what you do—

you just…emit amazingness

as if it’s nothing new.

You meet the world with knowledge,

with kindness, and with grace.

You find the strength to persevere

(and do it with a pretty face).

Sometimes I just get overwhelmed

by the darkness that I feel,

but every time I fall too deep,

you remind me of what’s real.

My friend, I do not befriend

the average or mundane.

I choose those who will change the world

(and who will keep me sane).

I choose those who bring joy and light

By being who they are.

And I chose you deliberately—

You made the cut by far.

So when you say self-loathing things

with a casual laugh or cough,

you hurt my heart from the inside

(and you kinda piss me off).

You make me want to hit you

In your lie-professing throat,

so, to avoid injury,

I’ve written you this note.

Please read it and remember

that you're freaking so much more

than the errors you imagine

or the dreams that hit the floor

or the little flaws you magnify

and use to self-define.

You are extremely wonderful,

and I’m so glad that you’re mine.

 

Love, Katie