We Grew Up Learning To Cheer On

Our Lives Will Only Ever Always Continue To Be A Balancing Act That Has Less To Do With Pain And More To Do With Beauty.

I Accept That Today May Be Imperfect... I Accept That I May Be As Well. What I Don't Accept Is That Imperfection Should Be The Crutch I Use To Excuse Myself From Participating In Joy.

Don't Tell Me You're Not Beautiful. You're The Kind Of Beautiful The Blind Would See If We Could Figure Out Some Way To Give Them Three Seconds Of Sight.

I'm Not The Only Kid Who Grew Up This Way, Surrounded By People Who Used To Say That Rhyme About Sticks And Stones, As If Broken Bones Hurt More Than The Names We Got Called, And We Got Called Them All. So We Grew Up Believing No One Would Ever Fall In Love With Us, That We'd Be Lonely Forever, That We'd Never Meet Someone To Make Us Feel Like The Sun Was Something They Built For Us In Their Toolshed. So Broken Heartstrings Bled The Blues, And We Tried To Empty Ourselves So We'd Feel Nothing. Don't Tell Me That Hurts Less Than A Broken Bone...

My Heart Is A Protest That I Let Rally Against My Ribs.