Letters.

8.11.15

I don’t think people are told how important they are, nearly as much as they deserve. It’s too easy to let words and emotions remain unsaid and withheld. Too many of us are under the impression that people already know how glorious their mere existence is, how great of a difference they’ve made in our lives, how deeply they’ve scarred us, and how severely they are missed.
Sometimes, I like to imagine I’m one of those guys on the street corner, twirling around an advertisement that holds words humans actually need to see, encouragements and affirmations people have been waiting their entire lives to hear and believe.
The sign would read something along the lines of, “Hey you. Yes, you. You’re meant for big things. You are immaculate. You are here to be great. Stop playing so small. Stop looking around. You are the only thing standing in your way.”
I wish I could tattoo, “Stop playing so small” across your forehead. I wish I could string together the right words for you. Ones you will read and repeat and listen to and believe.
Maybe these will be enough.
Stop playing so small.
-b

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