Dear future me,
Before you read the rest of this, take out your Miles Davis vinyl and let it play. I would like to assume you still have that record and that you have a new, beautiful, old record player. I would also like to assume that like your teenage self, you live life like it’s a movie. That you indulge yourself in everything, always. That you can still feel, truly feel.
I hope that by now you have learned to stop chasing the world. I hope you have learned to take risks, pass out pieces, and let the world chase you. Did you ever end up living in New York? Whether that’s a yes or a no, I hope your life feels like jazz on a Sunday afternoon.
Did you ever learn that a man’s gaze does not measure who you are? Did you ever learn that your lack of ability to make words sound beautiful does not measure the beauty of your mind?
Are you friends with your child? Can they speak with you about the things that you shackled up as a girl? Be there for them. Tell them about the types of people they’ll meet. The world is, after all, overflowing with danger and beauty. Let them know that. Let them feel that. Please.