Letter To A Future Daughter (2:08 am) | Teen Ink

Letter To A Future Daughter (2:08 am)

January 22, 2014
By meowitselizabeth PLATINUM, Fletcher, North Carolina
meowitselizabeth PLATINUM, Fletcher, North Carolina
21 articles 0 photos 9 comments

Favorite Quote:
Don't be delicate; be vast and brilliant.


Darling, promise me that you won’t always listen to what I have to say. Promise that every once in a while, you will tell me that I’m wrong, scream a string of profanities, and walk out of the room. This hits hard, but believe me, I will not always be correct.

Sunshine, remember that you are not always right either. At some point in your life, you will wake up at four in the morning, slip your feet into worn boots, and pick up the bag you have packed. You will reach in your pocket for that twenty dollar bill and wrinkled bus ticket, and it’ll feel like a dream. But sunshine, you’re not going anywhere. Kick off those boots, swallow your pride, and go back to bed.

Angel, you don’t need him. When you’re fifteen, sitting on a swing in some park, and the boy next to you has a smile that’s bright and kind, you are going to think that he’s the last person you’ll lose. His kisses will taste like anxiety, peppermint, and cheap cigarettes, and you are going to think that you are the happiest girl in the world. Believe me, angel, you need to stand on your own two feet before he joins you.

Sweetheart, some days, you are going to hate yourself. That is inevitable. But as you are staring into a mirror, pinching your thighs and crying, remember that it is temporary. No one else sees the things that you do, so wipe the tears from your face and remember that you are not too heavy, too awkward, too tall. If anything, sweetheart, you are too beautiful.

Love, there will be days when you think you don’t want to live anymore. Promise me, promise me, that you will not let the sadness win. Put on a tank top and go walk in the rain; let the salty tears mix with the fresh water. Then, love, come inside and let them both dry.

Honey, when you step off your school bus and tears are already welling in your eyes, and I can tell how exhausted you are, I promise that I will not tell you to do your homework. Get some ice cream and go to bed. If you are so tired of studying that your hands and voice shake, I couldn't care less if you get a 65% on that exam. Because, honey, your mental health comes first.

Dear, when you are standing on the subway with a bottle of wine in one hand and your favorite jacket in the other, all you are going to be thinking about is how badly your day went. Put that aside, dear, and ask the woman next to you with the trails of mascara streaming down her face if she is alright. Trust me, you will not regret doing so.

Lastly, daughter, please remember to take care of yourself. Do not go around trying to save people who don’t want to be saved. Be tolerant of everyone you meet, and know that the kindness in your smile always overshadows the fact that your teeth are a little crooked. Someday, daughter, you will be overwhelmed with a desire to tell someone exactly what you think. Say it, and don’t regret a word. Always remind yourself that you are not always right, and remember, sometimes the best thing to do is just say “I love you.”


The author's comments:
I wrote this because I think the advice was as much something I needed to hear as it was for my future daughter, if I ever have children. I hope people will understand that you cannot shelter your children from the world or the solitude of their own minds, and that you can only tell them what they can and can't do, and hope that they listen. I am not always going to be right, and my parents are most certainly not always correct. This poem was an incredibly important piece for me to write, and this is advice that everyone should take.

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