My, (or so I thought)

This one goes out to the sophomores. The cheerleaders especially. This one goes out to the girls who already weigh less than average and don't understand that. For the girls who were told to lose weight, to work out, to stop eating. For the broken smiles and acid washed teeth I see myself in every day.

Your dreams are not worth trading for a pair of size 00's. Trust me. You're going to need more than a sugar IV and half a cliff bar to get there.

The most expensive brands will tell you that your salvation comes through two fingers to the back of your throat and the water at the dinner table will taunt you until it fills more of your life than you do. The first 10 pounds, the first milestone, the first pair of jeans and swimsuit and boy who looks at you as an object will validate your progress in a braided way. Lies mixed with the truth, working from the outside in.

An elevator down and a staircase up. Soup will become your very best friend and your very worst time. You will crawl into a jail cell and ask them to lock you away from yourself. But they will give you a spare key in case you need a drink break. Don't take the drink break. They will give you a blanket of warm thoughts and happy memories, but all you'll see if how skinny you were in the pictures. You'll frame a hand stitched promise and you'll memorize every mistake the needle made because of your hands.

and you'll drop enough weight to forget happiness altogether.

You'll have problems child, you'll never look at boys the same and you'll never underthink the way they look at you. The magazine covers will never be edited and you will glorify the dizziness that sets in when your feet step on dry ground. Anna and Mia will take over your cell phone and no one will get a word in or out.

Your dreams are not worth trading for a pair of size 00's.

Because when you think you have swam oceans to become a new you, you'll hit new landmarks with new sights to see and new reasons to crave thin. Because you will take every airplane ride out of this Hell and every boat and every back road and every bike ride away from the city and you'll still end up somewhere you can't call home. and you'll want a drink break from the running.

This one goes out to the girls on the fence. With one foot in the kiddie pool and one foot in the tanning bed. This one goes out to the secret formula worshippers and the thigh gap wanters. This one goes out to the mistakes that don't need to be made. Your dreams are not worth the double 0.

No Boys Allowed.

This post is for the girls who were pushed off a cliff into an empty surprise party.
  And to anyone else that watched winter melt into spring as best friends melted into strangers.

This moment is a horizon. This moment will stretch out forever if you let it.
Close your eyes darling girl. Let the undertones of sleep memorize your mind so they can paint your perfect sunrise. We all spend too much time looking at constellations named in the past.

The man who found the big dipper first is dead and gone, so let him be.
 He'll never shake your hand for a job well done, so stop waiting.

The Romans were the first to piece together broken lives and call it art, but they don't have to be the last. Their mosaic spells are sold across the world as valued, and as soon as you're finished with all this midnight sky, yours will be too.

Don't let the keys on his left hand convince you there's a lock on your door. He is a baseborn food chain and you are climbing the steps out of this mouse trap. You were not carried in the sand without water you were driven to the edge to appreciate a better view. Trust me, the jokes are so much funnier when your laugh is not for his.

Salt shined eyes and powder pressed hair, you opened your mind for too long last night.
If sleep can't cure your disease at least it can take your breathing away. Insomnia is your best friend's cousin:  follow her on instagram but do not spend entertaining efforts on the weekend. She will leave town if you forget to introduce her to your multitude.

And nobody tells you that April showers bring gifts for his new lover. Nobody prepares you for the way her laugh rings like a church bell on the wedding day of a deserving bride. Nobody warns you to look away from the paths your feet have thoughtlessly carved through your tile day.

 But I'll tell you this is not a place to stay.

They'll offer a seat and a glass of milk and tell you it's a welcoming world for the afterthought. It's never a welcoming world for the afterthought. Cardstock lies and scissor cut love. They mass produce greeting cards for this exact occasion. Paint buckets filled with emotions you'd like to store in the garage and old pajama pants your embarrassed to admit you wear. Time will throw them out with newspaper articles about the weather. And you won't remember this sunset very long because nobody talks about the first attempt if cancer is cured on the third.

A basket full of candy and a throat full of rum. Do not leave your images behind simply because  numbness includes you in her dinner party. Memories of the night you walked without a cane will always lift more than the wheelchair days.

That senior boy doesn't know where he's going. You can hitchhike all you want but it makes more sense to just call a taxi. Tell the driver you'd like to go somewhere nice. Somewhere with silk tides and permanent marker tattoos. He'll know where to take you.

This is not a pause. This is not a recess. In dodge ball you catch the ball to save a life but you catch a ball to take one. I'm sorry you were wearing the wrong color jersey when he tried to be a hero. Capes were never meant for high school hallways.

Wash his mustard stains out of your favorite T-shirt and finish the self-help poem you won't admit you've written. If his coordinates don't line up anymore forget about it. Odds are, you're both periodic and one day you'll find each other and have a real conversation. But surprises can't be counted down to.

It's okay to hate the sun and cry when it rains, but it's so much better to just clap for the thunder.