Please quit telling me I’m beautiful.
Please don’t tell me that one day, you’ll be “somebody.”
Please don’t tell me I’m the only one in the world, because we both know the sun doesn’t orbit around us.
Please don’t tell me that the world is at our feet.
Please don’t sing me your sweet lullaby.
Because baby, that’s not how this wonderful galaxy works, no matter how comforting pink shaded glasses feel.
Instead, tell me to lead by example. Instead, tell me to compartmentalize my temporarily generalized contempt for the boss that draws her inspiration from Miranda Priestly. Tell me not to go on some feminist rant on every date night.
Tell me the ugly truth. Tell me to use my voice. Because who we are as humans isn’t determined by our voting records or political views. It is determined by our everyday thoughts, actions, our way of intoxicating others with passion and love—the way we should treat the waiter with same damn respect as the CEO.
Tell me to stop assuming that my life will follow a very similar pattern to that of my mother’s and the rest of the women in my family. Tell me I don’t have to procreate just because it’s “time” to have a family. Tell me to dream big, travel as much as my wallet allows, and follow my passion as if there is no other way to live.
Don’t tell me to sacrifice myself in any relationship, blinding me with tunnel vision. Stop me from misaligning my priorities. Don’t tell me it’s time to hit the love milestone, to measure every other life event against it, even if everything else falls short. Tell me it’s okay not to follow the blueprint of the life I thought I wanted.
Guide me to lead a life I treasure and to rely on myself. Tell me to stop comparing my behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel. Tell me to stop comparing, entangled in jealousy, and remind me to see that I’m looking at what I perceive to be the truth.
Being scared is a choice. So is being strong. Choose wisely.