Yesterday I looked in the mirror and remembered what I wasn't. My face was tired and sunburned and different and not cool.
Because the cool is for the champions and the swag is for the the players
The pretty is for the blondes and the beautiful is for the rich brunettes who drive old cars with new speakers.
Sometimes the smart have a grasp on control and the techies have got a definite hold on the future.
The girls who keep knowledge in a little box on their bedside table always forget where the key is in the search for pretty, and
The boys who are lyrically gifted are endlessly searching for strength and recognition.
Yesterday I stared back at the mirror and tried hopelessly to look into both my eyes at the same time to see if they matched.
But I'm sure it doesn't matter what you have as long as you've got it, and it doesn't matter where you are going as long as you are moving, and the power of growth is more important than whether you're going straight up or not, and it doesn't matter if your eyes match as long as you can see the world around you. Find what you've got and write it on your nametag, tape it in your notebook, slap it on your car bumper.
wear it like a tattoo on your arm,
Or your chest,
Or your face.
Definitely wear it on your face.
Use it to intimidate people and to scare away gangsters. Use it to expose yourself to love and life and living, because it is your ticket to ride the plane to the stars, where you are so enveloped in light that nobody can see anything but the intensity of your good.
Hold its hand and don't let it stray or get kidnapped or get hit by a car. Because your cool makes you a champion and your pretty is your own and your smart is your future. Your face belongs to you only and your hands are yours to use. So Forget about the mirror and see yourself in the reflection of your stars, untainted by the world and perfected in the white light in their corners. Think less about the skin and more about the flesh, less of the body and more of the soul. Stop wishing for Nutella and find some money to buy it with. An idea is the stone, but the labor becomes the masterpiece. Shatter the mirror, break your mold, YOLO, senior year. Put it in your pocket and keep it safe because now it's yours.