To take your heart away

Dear future hubster, 

some days, all I want from you is to talk to me. Talk to me with all the words, beautiful in their sound, beautiful in their meaning, beautiful because you say them to me. 

We can build our own fort in the living room, our fort of words. You build the walls, I'll bring the furniture. You make it stand, I make it cozy. And then we move in, to our fort of words, and read them to each other. I read your words back to you, you read my words back to me, until we no longer know who said what and it doesn't matter because it's all warm and soft and safe and we never want to leave.

My lava cake is as good as theirs

Dear future hubster,

you know how every Valentine's day I roll my eyes and say something like #FutureNotFlowers or "Send a girl to school"? 

It wouldn't be any different this year - were you around - as I would tell you that instead of spending an evening in a restaurant crowded with couples either smug or uncomfortable, getting probably overprized food while trying to not judge everybody around us, we should offer the same amount of money to do something good with it.

Thing is, we can. Thing is, I already have. Not only because you're not around so I don't need to look for heart-shaped business card holders or edible underwear, but also because you would like this idea, and you would donate too, and then we would have sent two girls to school. 

We can make dinner at home. I'll wear red if you'd like. 

In every single way

Dear future hubster,

that "believe in yourself" mantra, I think that's a bit of a myth. Some people never lost their initial, unchallenged belief of their worth, but the rest of us, we have to learn again.

And it doesn't just happen because you keep telling yourself all the good things. Even other people telling you all the good things is not going to make you believe. If you're a fellow beneficiary of the impostor syndrome, it might just make you feel like you're faking everything. 

What does make a difference though is when people tell you things without those nice words. Unplanned, instinctively. When they look at you and it's obvious that they see beauty. When they giggle uncontrollably. When they wake up crying from a bad dream, and they tell you what it was about. When they ask you important and complicated questions because they are certain you know the answer. When they count on you because they know they can. When they show up for you on small days, not just the big ones. 

Those firework-less, no-big-word, almost unnoticed moments: they make us believe that we're worth it, whatever 'it' is. 

I just wish there was enough of those moments for all the beautiful broken boys and girls with loud ugly voices in their heads telling them nonsense. So that they could also see their beauty. And maybe one day even start believing it.