this is the day i write my manifesto.

this is the day i write my manifesto. the day that i promise myself to become more okay with departures, and welcoming of new souls into my life. this is the day that i will start becoming good at love--that i remember love is something i need to practice and nurture. to remember that i can't dull the pain, and expect to feel the freedom that love brings. because i know when i mute one feeling, i silence them all.

i will become more willing to embrace situations with no guarantees. to remember that i am grateful, because to feel this vulnerable means that i am alive! to be determined to do something that makes my palms sweaty, makes my voice shake, makes it hard to breathe, and makes my chest tighten--every day. to become comfortable with things that scare me. i want to embrace adventure, to seek the ever-changing horizon, but never to become reckless.

i want to rewrite my narrative, and not allow false messages to dictate my worth. i want courage to lace my feet, that they take me down correct paths more and more frequently, and more intuitively.

i want to allow my eyes to twinkle at new discoveries,

and not be too proud for amazement.

i want each body part to know and understand its unique worth, and it's integral part in making the rest of my body work; my eyes to know that even though they don't look or function like a nose, it doesn't make them bad, but different and irreplaceable. 

i want to love all of these things in myself, so i can more fully love them in others.

i don't want to hide from settling into pain--it is a natural part of life. instead, i will give pain permission to be a sign, reminding me that with pain comes beauty.

last of all, knowing that sometimes i will fall short, but remembering i am an individual capable of more than i've ever imagined. to do this all with grace and humility. to allow myself to laugh so hard and so often, that someday my face will be a testament to the beauty of life through my skin, wrinkled with memories of growth, heartache, and joy. this is my symphony.