this is us. the kids with the pixel hearts, the queens with the broken hearts. this is us, bleeding love and glory. we survived. this is us with the gazillion views on oppression and prognostications. this is us – the ones with the bruised knees and patched minds, building sandcastles with the muck you threw at us. this is us with the scraped knees – do you remember pushing us down?
this is us – grime filled nails and latte lips and rusty hair. this is us, and we made it this far. this is us. we wear headbands of wilted flowers and we scream with our face full of blood. we hope with bandaged skin and tousled hair. we sing with our mouths closed – do you remember taping our mouth?
so this is us – reincarnations of helen and cleopatra and venus. this is us with labels stuck to us with permanent glue. this is us – dying to please a generation you raised.
and i cannot just understand how i can possibly feel like an entire library and a blank page at the same time
but i kinda do, and i still don’t know how i feel about it.
for the love of god, don’t teach your kids how to avoid crises. teach them how to manage them. because you cannot control events. teach them how to stand up and speak out instead of how to hold their tongue and bite their tail. teach them to fight.
And maybe if you have the audacity, teach(show) them how to be nice.
YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE FAIR TO THEM. YOU DON’T. BE FAIR TO YOURSELF. BECAUSE AT THE END OF THE DAY, THEY ARE NOT THE ONES PICKING YOU UP. THEY ARE THOSE WHO WERE NOT EVEN LISTENING. SO GO AHEAD AND DO WHAT YOU WANT, EVEN IF THEY DO NOT WANT YOU TO.
“because it’s like seeing a white daisy spring up beside a freshly dug empty grave, don’t you see?” she mumbled, shaking furiously into her palms.
– exerpts #1