and for the first time in a long time,
maybe ever, i feel like i’m standing
on my own two feet. not falling to my
knees, not clinging to any outstretched
hand. no these words are mine, these
dreams are mine, this tiny midtown
apartment and this slightly overweight
cat are mine. i have made proof out
of nothing but pipe dreams and prayers.
i know hearing someone say they’re
proud of themselves is like reading
one of those oversized inspirational posters
on a classroom wall, like reading about a
war instead of crawling through trenches,
like motivational speakers at three am when
you’ve partied too hard but you still can’t
sleep but i don’t care, because this isn’t for
you. this is for my eighteen year old sister
who doesn’t know where she’s going in the
world only that she wants to go wherever
passion and art and joy take her. and for
every beautiful, passionate soul like hers,
and for every ridiculous, stubborn soul like
mine.

just know it doesn’t matter, that thing that’s
holding you back even if sometimes it’s
holding you up or holding your hand.. it doesn’t
matter. just be free.