I write every day
hoping that there is a chance
you will read them too.

Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson

Why do I still hold onto that hope?

I guess I just don't ever want anyone to be able to say that I was a quitter. That I gave up to easily and didn't fight hard enough. I will always fight for those I love. Always.

Still here,
L.A.

Ladies,

Enough with the body shaming. With the fat talk. With the idea that as soon as you achieve the "thigh-gap" everything will be great. With the idea that a middle that isn't flat and hard isn't worth having arms wrapped around it. Because, I'm going to level with you, all of that is nothing more than a giant pile of bull shit.

Be healthy. Yes. Do that. Please. But don't do it to finally fit into that jean size. Who gives a flying fuck what number is on the small flap of fabric inside that pair of skinny jeans that makes you feel like a million bucks?

Go ahead. Run a mile every day, or just take the stairs today, not because you want that number on the scale to be a little bit less, but because your body is your home for as long as you're on this earth and you might as well take care of it.

How many miles have your capable legs taken you in your lifetime? How many dances have your feet allowed you to enjoy? How many loved ones have your arms embraced? Thank them.

Strengthen them to take you further. To dance for just one more song. To hold on a little longer. To squeeze a little tighter. Feed it with the kind of food that'll keep you going that extra mile. I'll be damned if that doesn't include apple pie and ice-cream in the fall.

Because isn't that how it should be? You shouldn't hate this beautiful and marvelous vehicle which has taken you this far. On your first bike ride. To your first of many dances. Across the stage at graduation. To that city where you really started to understand yourself.

You should celebrate it. Thank it. Care for it. Recognize it as the God given gift that it is. No matter how different it is from the girl's sitting next to you in class or the woman's you pass in the grocery store. Realize that every little freckle or scar, every feature you have, is just part of an illustration that helps tell the story of your life.

And just as reading a book with the same illustration on every page would be boring, so would being a part of a world where everyone fits the same mold. Your story is beautiful, special, and unique. Your body is too.

Embrace it. Try to be grateful for it. & Please take the time to learn to love it.

Dreaming...

They'll smile at me with one of those how-in-the-hell-did-I-ever-get-so-lucky kind of smiles and say without any sense of irony, "You're the kind of beautiful I want to wake up to every morning." Of course I won't be able to help but laugh because who in the hell thought that after all those nights alone they would find me? And all I'll be able to say to one of the greatest things anyone's ever said to me will be, "Ditto."

One word.

That'll be enough.