to my daughter & all other daughters out there
Honey I know you smell it, that house burning miles away and with it the boy with brown eyes. I see you wearing your armour and collecting all the galaxies and chocolates in your backpack, ready to give him your version of the world but honey, stay for another 5 seconds and think, does he want to be saved? Is he worth all the burns on your beautiful soul. Do you really want to put yourself through that or you want to wear your fuzzy pj’s and cuddle with Mr. Bubsy and eat all the Nutella until you fall asleep in your warm, cosy bed?
I know what you’re going to decide. I know it because I chose to enter the burning house too. I can’t stop you but I can tell you that I will be sitting on the porch with fresh pancakes and towels. There is no heartbreak in this world that pancakes can’t fix and towels because no matter how many oceans you tread, no matter how long you stand in the rain, no matter how many rivers you fill with your tears, the water that imprints your body and soul will dry.
Believe me, I know. I used the same towel.
-a.n // extract from an open letter to all the daughters
