Marisa Donnelly

But you were my adventure. You were my Friday nights, my cross-country trips, my pounding heart, my spark.

You suddenly see your life paved out in front of you, magical and terrifying and new.

Not when the shower water sends goosebumps down your back. Not when you walk through town and see the place where we first kissed, outside your old apartment in the glow of the faded streetlight.

You don’t take anyone’s sh*t.

You are so much more than a body, created and capable, futile and flawed.

I am not afraid to feel the wind through my hair, the sun on my face, a backpack on my shoulders and a map in my hands.

Thousands of perfectly constructed cells were molded together to create you.

I built my resume by saying yes to a ton of stuff.