Homework strewn about, laptop screaming some overly cheesy love songs, and my heart full of motivation. I sit at my desk, comfortable in the chaos. Feeling like a magician with all the tricks I had up my sleeve. Fun stationery and sharpies. Words and secrets. I was ignoring my world in hopes of making someone else’s a little better, a little sweeter.
My black sharpie hit the paper and motivation poured out as water pours out of Niagara falls. Fast and hard, almost too much to take. The words fit together, held hands, weird and awkward, yet perfect and inspirational. They fit. The words I needed someone to tell me were staring me in the face. They said ” You don’t need someone to tell you these, you need to tell them to others. Don’t let other people dictate your life. Don’t need their approval. Approve for others. Help others. Your call is for others.” These words were raw. They were bare. My heart sat on the cardstalk in front of me, and there was no going back. I decorated the envelope and dropped the letter in my purse. Those words were sent on mission impossible. They were on their way to change the world of teenage girls and for the better. To make them think more of themselves because they are worth it. They are so worth it.
Desensing down the steps the next morning I had my heart hitting my side. Bump, bump bump. The words someone would read today no one had ever heard from me before. It felt as though a ticking time bomb was sitting an waiting to go KABOOM and tell the world how I really felt. Soon I could make someone’s day, or crush my little spirit. Since when did innocent feelings feel like poison?
All day I looked for the perfect opportunity to drop my bomb. Tick, Tick, Tick. Is there ever a right time to just let a little piece of you go? Just set it down and walk away? Probably never see it again? No, not really. But the moment I came to terms with the fact I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Other girls had to sympathize with me. In all reality all it is just words. Just 26 letters combined to mean something to me. They may mean nothing to anyone else. I think that is what was so scary. I was worried my feelings weren’t valid. I was the only one. Little did I know that in a world of 7 billion people that is quite impossible. So I dropped it off. In that big stall. On the toilet paper dispenser. Then I walked out as nothing had just happened.
Two hours later, sitting in the car, twitter open. I see my words. There they are. They found their way back to me. A tweet consisted of an exact sentence from my letter. Someone agreed with me. I made a difference. The emojis by that sentence resembled two hands facing out agreeing with whatever I had said. Me saying my feelings were valid, they validated someone else’s. My words. My thoughts. My heart. My difference. Scrolling down further I find a picture of my note. 9 favorites. 4 retweets. A couple replies. This worked. Somehow I made someone feel as though they were worth it. I gave someone the courage to say “Hey. I am more than the rumors. I am more than society’s image of me. I am a work of art, a piece being enhanced everyday. An unfinished product. I am loved by someone who doesn’t even know me just because I am me.” The feeling I had was like no other. I made a difference. Do you know what that feels like?
To see girls except the words of a stranger was great. They have no idea it was me. It could have been the “weird” girl sitting in the corner etching some pretty amazing sketches in the corner of her paper. It could have been little Miss popular with the perfect hair and dainty hand writing. Or it could have been that girl everyone passes in the hallway. Letting her mind her own business lost in a million thoughts. I bonded with strangers. Now I look around and act as though every girl has read one of my letters. Agreed with it. Kept it. Shared it. I have a secret little bond with people now. One they don’t even know about. All thanks to that little piece of cardstalk covered in words.