sometimes i write happy letters.
hug who you love
if i could offer you only one tip for the future, it would be to hug. don’t ever question if it’s okay to embrace your loved ones, it’s been proven that people love to love and to be loved.
drive with the windows down and your music loud. let the whole neighborhood hear your rendition of your favorite tune. there will be a day when embarrassment will become the wolf in sheep’s clothing, masking itself as maturity. that is the day you will find the beat in the sirens of far off police chases and your own breath. it is okay to wait.
stand in the mirror naked. dance in the mirror naked. recite act two scene two in the mirror…naked.even the most timeless souls have mortal bodies. remember the curves and bumps of your skin, the softest parts and the roughest. then try to love it.
stop cracking your knuckles.
never take someone’s backlash to heart. it may feel like whip to flesh, but it’s only temporary. no man ever placed pain on another without bearing the wounds first. bury the bones of retaliation and grow from the dirt they left you in.
don’t ever hesitate to kiss. well, do if they have a questionable disease or there’s no consent, but besides that, kiss. reports say that smooching prevents cavities. make this into a good pick up line and savor their lips like licorice.
talk to a therapist. it is okay to not be okay, but confidentiality is sometimes crucial. tell them what the color yellow means to you. draw them a picture of your mood, no facial expressions allowed. have them help you develop your negatives into positives, beautiful pictures to hang in your house. if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
keep your old love letters. don’t question if they would still remember your handwriting today.
never doubt your ambitions. a goal properly set is halfway reached. as cheesy as it sounds, leap for your dreams and learn from your falls. if your dreams aren’t scaring you, they aren’t big enough.
grow a garden. learn that our earth may one day not be here. rebuild your roots and plant some as well.
plan to live in the moment. don’t dwell on your future. maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. maybe you’ll have a ring on your finger in five years, maybe you’ll be swiping online dating apps. live quietly in the moment, and see all the beauty before you. the future will take care itself.
own your sexuality. don’t be afraid of it or what others think of it.
practice yoga poses on a rooftop, simply to say you did so.
read the directions after following your own.
do not settle for cloak and dagger relationships. leave the espionage for the spies.
ask your parent what their favorite dish is. nine times out of ten, it’s a relative’s home cooking.
eat as much as you want. you only live once, so lick the bowl.
understand that friendships will come and go, but only a few are worth fighting for. build bridges in geography and lifestyle, that way you have a place to stay in every neighborhood.
take a trip to seattle, make a post about feeling sleepless.
fly to california and make yourself look like a complete tourist. venture to every starbucks and meet a celebrity. live like one.
accept certain inalienable truths: wars will continue. summers will get hotter. your hair will thin. and when it does, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, peace was on the rise, summers weren’t blistering, and children respected their elders.
respect your elders.
don’t live on your parents wallet. get a job, make some deals, invest in stock, play the lotto. there are better chances in that than feeling independent when you’re living life through a financial tube.
shave your head, once.
be wary to whose advice you buy, but take delight in those who supply it. advice can be tangible, so the next time your grandmother touches your arm while giving you a lesson, listen. her words are palpable because she learned them many moons ago.
but trust me on the hugging.
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