Whoever you are,
Whatever you do,
Whoever you do,
You are not random.
You are born for something only you can do,
A task only you can perform.
You are a word in the vastness of literature.
So mean something.
Mean something, that you debunk your life circumstances
Fly so far from the tree you forget what fruit you were supposed to be
Mean something, that you break the so-called limits of your body,
Shaming the real slut who wants everybody to be like her: society.
Mean something, that you feel primordial freedom even in pursuit of truth and beauty
Crash into things. A single strike can spark a wildfire.
Mean something, that your existence affirms the goodness of the earth,
Love people. Use things. Never the other way around.
You are the stray cat that car almost hit,
The girl crying for her drowned mother after the surge,
The boy swearing revenge for his father after the siege,
The tree falling for a shopping mall.
Life is not a hit-and-run,
Or a tidal wave,
Or a battlefield,
Or a business venture.
Life is you. So mean something.
Turn off the TV.
You’ve already seen that before.
You already know how it ends.
Get off the internet.
Nothing good ever gets away,
Even that vine you’ll laugh at for a few moments and forget just as quickly
Value your tribe. One day you will have a most brilliant idea, only no one will read it amongst your tacky unsolicited inspirational God quotes. With hashtags.
Most of all, value yourself. Guard you against all the bullshit this world suggests to you, including but not limited to Lang Leav and Thought Catalog. Know yourself so much, you don’t need a WikiHow to live a decent life.
Mean something that the world is not the same before and after you run through, that at least one person would think of you and wonder how they would have fared without, that by living with meaning you have caused a wildfire. Mean something, you little arsonist you.