The weirdest part of growing up that no one ever talks about is this constant pressure to be happy.
This constant threat that if you are not completely put together in your later 20s that you are a failure.
The thought that your mental health should be perfect. You should have a perfect diet. With a perfect exercise routine. A perfect job. Traveling schedule. Perfect conscious.
Its exhausting always trying to be perfect. To be sane. To be this image.
I don’t know a single person that has it figured out.
We are all spinning around on this planet wondering what we are doing wrong. Exhausted.
The weirdest thing is not being allowed to say “there are times I am not OK.”
We just don’t have to be.
I started writing love poems this month to myself. They are the best poems I could imagine.
Full of love. Full of live.
It’s probably because I finally fully love the person I am writing about.
The pain in my chest. The pain in my heart. I love you. Every ounce of you.
You are everything you need to be.
I know I could never hold your little heart the way you hold mine so delicately in your hands. The worn spots were it had fallen before. You just dust it off like it was the last jewel known to man and you just want to kiss it, to see it reflect in the sun. I know I may fail you but you just pick me back up, dust me off, and shine with me.
You’re my little man.
And I know that you get embarrassed when I pick you up from school and scream, “Baby Jacob!” You tell your friends, “don’t worry, she’s a little crazy.” Crazy? No baby, I am in love – with your little smile, tiny teeth, and all too short arms. The “oh brother’” look and “we need to talk.” And I know sometimes I cannot always keep up with you – with Veronica, Stacey, Becca? Who? But you humble me. No matter what I do and who I become you always hug me the same and smile the same goofy grin when I walk through the door. You never think I am more beautiful with makeup or less beautiful after I leave my shower. You say my hair looks good crazy, reminds you of the villain on your favorite TV show. If I am leaving I better be giving you a hug or you’ll run out to my car like I forgot something. That “are you serious” look gets me every time.
Loud. You are loud. Wonderful, aggressive, proud.
I wonder where you got that from. I love you little man. My bleeding heart beats for you. I once read that a human heart can fill a sea in a lifetime. I don’t know too much about that, but I do know I would spill out my sea if only you would swim with me forever. I want to see you grow up, fulfill all your craziest dreams, and watch you experience life. From the first crazy party you tell me about to the wonderful girl you bring to wife. I know you think you will be young forever but I want you to cherish it. Just remember your niece only lived for four months. I want you to live like you would if she was still watching, needing her older nephew to show her the way. I know you are so young now but soon you will be 18 and packing up to leave. I cannot bear not having you with me but remember in all times of doubt to be strong. I am never far away.
I love you beating heart.