I didn’t know there were people actually like you in this world.
I mean, you’re what, sixteen, seventeen? And already you’re hating the world like James Dean as a rebel,
and then who am I? Because I’m sure not Natalie Wood.
Even if I could somehow make you see something or be something better;
less hating, less fighting, less inciting rage,
I don’t know how I’d ever make it to that page without crossing some line in your story, and getting too involved.
Problem not solved.
Stop it. Just stop.
No, I haven’t got a clear cut plan of how to grow up and be a man,
but for some reason I know growing up has got to be better
than you living in this rage of lightning weather
and lashing out,
like you’re about to shout at anyone and everyone,
because for some unknown to me, crystal clear reason, you hate them all.
Who ever made that call? That that was an option? No, it’s not.
Why? Because I said so,
and because you’re here and when you talk to me I see your spark of humanity,
and how clearly you love, and if you love one person that’s enough,
because one is part of the whole and each one has a soul, and in each there’s something to love. Just find it. I dare you.
I dare you to stop pretending you hate everyone, even if you were hurt by someone, I dare you to try again to understand, to see the heart in fellow man, and love.
Just do it.