Three Things I Would Tell My Children If I Were Willing to Have Children

One,

You were not planned,

And by that I mean,

By the time I was fifteen,

I had my life drawn out, I had connected the dots,

And you were not apart of my grand scheme to take over the world,

Using books and love and lots,

And lots of mayonnaise.

Two,

If you are anything like me,

You will have inherited my unruly hair,

And my strange ability to scrape my knees

At the earliest opportunity.

And I am sorry.

For already making your life harder than it needs to be.

But if you are anything like me,

You’ll have my soul,

strong-willed enough

That cities will crumble before your eyes.

And you will shout and scream and curse your way through the lies,

That the world has laid out.

Three,

unexpected things will happen to you,

You will meet people who will tear you down,

And find others,

Who will just as easily,

Build you up again.

But through you pain,

You will find a light, a fire in your heart,

And if you are anything like me,

You will not so easily be torn apart

Again.